


Can't Stand the Heat

by Brickmaster_Guy



Category: Lackadaisy (Webcomic)
Genre: 1920s, Anger, Arguing, Attraction, Bathrooms, Breakfast, Captivity, Cats, Cliche, Clumsiness, Confessions, Crushes, Dialogue, Diners, During Canon, Exhaustion, Feelings, Feelings Realization, Fights, Fist Fights, Gay, Guilt, Guns, Gunshot Wounds, Hostage Situations, Injury, Injury Recovery, Interrogation, Investigations, Late at Night, Lies, Lunch, M/M, Mutual Pining, Negotiations, Not Beta Read, Opposites Attract, Organized Crime, Pain, Pancakes, Past Relationship(s), Phone Calls & Telephones, Police, Prohibition, Relationship(s), Reminiscing, Self-Doubt, Shooting, Shooting Guns, Showers, Sleep, Sleepiness, Slow Burn, Speakeasies, Stabbing, Staring, Tea, Threats, Trust, canon's here it's just mutated
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-02-08
Updated: 2019-10-12
Packaged: 2019-10-24 09:32:30
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 26
Words: 52,944
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17701838
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Brickmaster_Guy/pseuds/Brickmaster_Guy
Summary: The walls are starting to close in for the Lackadaisy and Marigolds alike, and both are feeling the pressure. With Lackadaisy practically miles behind their opponent, all is starting to seem lost. But, things can still get a lot worse. And maybe, if everyone plays their cards right, a lot better."In fact, that's why I'm here— with your interests in mind— suggesting you step down. There are less diplomatic ways I could go about it."





	1. Laws

**Author's Note:**

> How long's it been since my last chapter here? A month? Much better than the year without a writer. Anyway, in case you didn't notice, this is, in fact, not NITW! I'm finally able to write other things, too. Hopefully that means I'll write this to its completion, and maybe also eventually get back to that Oxenfree story of mine. But, if anyone reading remembers, which I doubt, the very first thing I put up here was also Lackadaisy! But, that had two chapters with each only about six hundred words, and also only a loose grasp on the actual canon. I took it down shortly before I started Where You Can Belong, a moderately better story in my opinion. Now, this chapter is a bit shorter than I'd like, but with it being an introduction and all, and considering its at least a thousand words, I'll take it. But, this is probably the longest I've taken in writing any one chapter before; I spent at least half an hour each day I worked on this checking the comic for accuracy and twenty minutes checking Google to see if my dialogue was mostly time period accurate. But, moving past that, I've got a much better grasp on canon now than I did after basically skimming through it a year and a half ago, so I think this'll be much better than that. But, if you notice any mistakes I made, please, please don't hesitate to tell me. Also, expect some gay stuff in just a chapter or two (how could I not?). Otherwise, enjoy, and don't miss out on my subtle, subtle foreshadowing at the end :S

Things undoubtedly looked grim. Facing danger both financial and physical, the Lackadaisy speakeasy was up against some hard to swallow odds. But, nonetheless, everything always seemed to end up okay in the end, at least. That kept everyone alive, out of jail, and paid. But, now things were getting a bit tougher.

The anti-alcohol sentiment was being emphasized more than ever, with bootleggers under plenty of stress. Federal agents and police officers were patrolling more and more invasively than ever before. And, so many were being arrested and fined that it was more financially sensible to close shop than continue for plenty of speakeasies. This was when it was more important than ever for Mitzi May to run a tight ship. Unfortunately, that was always a tough ask when she was dealing with her team of gangsters.

“—so that’s why I was wonderin’ if you had any ideas on how to make things a bit more… streamlined?”

“Well… first thing I’d suggest—”

“Mitzi, have you seen Freckle?” Rocky asked, having just burst into a conversation between Mitzi and Wick, a more frequent occurrence than usual during the recently rocky periods the speakeasy had been facing.

“He was unloadin’ the shipment last time I heard him,” said Mitzi.

“I promised his mother I'd bring him home before it got too late.” Rocky paused. “It's about eleven, right?”

“It's almost midnight, I'm afraid,” Wick replied.

“Damned daylight savings. Well, I better go get him then, or I'll be putting myself in grievous danger!” Rocky shouted back, as he began to pace towards the tunnels.

“Daylight savings was weeks ago, honey!” Mitzi said, loudly.

Rocky took long strides as he walked down the tunnels towards the garage where Freckle was supposed to be. It was chilly and rather damp down in the tunnels, but, granted, it always was. He hummed to himself as he continued, stepping in an occasional puddle of water. Once he'd made it to the staircase that led up into the garage, he opened the hatch above it and called out into the room, “Freckle!”

The room had within it Zib and the titular Freckle, the latter deep inside the back of a truck, with the wall lined with many boxes, stacked up on top of one another. Freckle, upon being shouted at flinched and nearly dropped a crate he was struggling to lift. “Yeah?” he asked, straining himself as he poked his head out from the back of the truck, crate still in his hands.

“Your mother awaits! We oughta get you back before she up and storms here herself!"

“What time is it?” He handed the crate to Zib, standing on the ground, hands outstretched.

“Twelve.”

Freckle squatted down, grabbing another crate from inside the truck, and sighed. “Zib, is it alright if I—”

“Sure, go ahead,” Zib began, before receiving the box Freckle just grabbed and tensing up, “I’ll deal with what's left.”

“Alright, let's go.” Freckle hopped down and grabbed his hat, sitting on one of the boxes against the wall.

“You're doin’ the next shipment, Rocky!” Zib shouted, pulling himself into the back of the truck, “If there  _ is  _ a next one,” he mumbled to himself.

“Okay!” Rocky replied, before turning to Freckle, “Alright then, we're off.”

The two left the garage, walking through a light drizzling of rain to their car, parked on the side of the road in front of the café. The sky looked rather overcast, the moon blearily shining through the clouds. After quickly settling into the car, Rocky began to pilot the car on its course back home. The streets were rather quiet, and some calm conversation between the two relatives kept the serene mood as they drove back home. Upon arriving, the car was parked, the two exited, and Rocky took the lead. Shushing Freckle, he carefully opened the door and tried to make his way in quietly. After about five steps in, it seemed he was in the clear, and the two parted ways as they readied themselves for sleep.

While many, including the aforementioned McMurrays and Rickaby, were beginning to sleep, a few were preparing for a few long hours ahead of them. And that included Mordecai, currently within the office of Asa, who was preparing him for a second assault.

“I just warned her about this, and yet she’s still gonna act all ambitious and try to work back to where they were. What’s with her?” Asa said, smoking a cigar.

“So what do you want me to do?” Mordecai asked, adjusting his glasses.

“Well, they just took a shipment intended for us, basically spitting in my face after I tried to stop them. I tried my best to let her know that she should stop, right? Were we not stern enough?”

“I was plenty stern.”

“So, she's threatening business now, and with the feds trying to lock everything down, I can’t deal with her messiness right now. Take out the whole operation. Destroy things, steal anything left, break someone’s damn legs if you have to, anything to shut it down. I want this to be their last night in business if you can manage it.”

“Assuredly.”

“Great, and you don’t mind if the Savoys come along with you?”

“I  _ do  _ mind; they’re hardly—”

“Well, seeing as you have no grievances, go ahead and get yourselves over there as soon as possible.”

Mordecai sighed. “Fine then. Where might they be?”

“Probably gloating or scaring the other patrons, gambling, perhaps. They were down there last time I checked.”

Mordecai nodded, turned, and left the office, heading, begrudgingly, to his partners in crime. If everything went as planned, which, of course it would with Mordecai in charge, he would be able to finally be able to put the Lackadaisy behind him. Sure, he still felt a small tinge of nostalgic longing for the old days, but he wasn’t going to sacrifice his mostly comfortable position for a long shot at reliving the past. Not to mention, it was more dangerous than ever to be putting up with them. It was in everyone’s best interest for them to go under, even if they didn't quite realize it yet. So, it would just have to be.

This would be easy enough.


	2. Easy Enough

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai and the Savoys go through with what they've been told to do. Truly, everything's just easy enough.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello hello. Here's another chapter. The main concern of this one was getting the garage and tunnels accurate of the Lackadaisy. Not to mention the Savoys' speaking patterns, which I did my best with, but I still feel like I probably strayed away with. I know no French and am not Cajun or even in the vicinity. But, ignoring that potential hiccup, I hope you enjoy this chapter. I'm really happy with its writing, which came out surprisingly well. And the length, which I was also surprised with, getting something this long out of something I originally thought I was gonna have problems with. But, overall, I feel that this is a good chapter, and I hope you enjoy it.

“So we just breakin’ tings?” Nico asked.

“Well, the goal's to put them out of business.” Mordecai corrected, already finding himself becoming more impatient than was to his taste; this _must_ have been his third, perhaps fourth time re-emphasizing this premise.

“ _Dem_ guys? Eas’,” Serafine added.

“Quite. I doubt anyone's even there currently,” Mordecai said.

“Mais dat's not as fun,” Nico pouted.

“It's not about 'fun’, it's about us staying out of prison.”

“Same ting.”

“...Putting that aside, it's time we move, unless there are any further misunderstandings?” Nico gave a silent thumbs up, and a small nod. Mordecai turned to Serafine, who expressed a somewhat sinister grin. Good enough. “Let’s be off.” Mordecai began towards the door, with the two Savoys following several steps behind, quietly talking to each other.

The car sat, parked and quiet on the street outside of the Little Daisy Café, having already made the journey from the hotel. The three sat inside of the car, in the dark cover of night, with only the yellow street lights overhead illuminating anything. Mordecai was silently planning his course of actions, while also seething, as both Serafine and Nico wanted to sit in the back, leading to a rather unbalanced, asymmetrical view.

“In, ruin everyting, out,” Nico stated to himself.

“...Well, yes.” Mordecai agreed, “Mitzi is probably asleep upstairs, and otherwise, it should be empty, so if we’re quiet and precise enough we should have no problems doing just that.”

“Sure— what we doin’ if tings go south?”

“That’s when it’s time to use shoot, if not to kill, at least to wound. Whether for better or for worse, we must simply be unscrupulous.”

“Les jus’ go in now,” Serafine said, already scooting towards the door, with her hand moving towards the handle.

“Yes, we’ve been sitting here long enough,” Mordecai replied.

The car doors all opened almost simultaneously as the three cats stepped out, and crossed the dead street as the approached the café. Then they began towards the garage, where they could get in most easily and least noticeably. The door that led into the titular garage had recently been shot apart, and the unsecured opening was being kept closed from the other side. Mordecai, with no easy way in through the closed door, put his small lockpicking tools he’d readied back away. However, since there was no easy, quiet way to go enter through either the door or the garage door next to it, it would seem that perhaps the front door was the easiest way to get in— granted that they could do it without much notice. That could be a bit more difficult, but, it seemed their only option unless someone wanted to break down the door, which would be louder than basically any other way they could gain entrance.

After signaling to the group, the three walked back towards the storefront. Mordecai, on one knee, began to pick the lock as quickly as possible while Nico and Serafine watched out for potential onlookers or police officers. While Mordecai worked, he began to regret not just finding some way in through that garage, especially as he remembered the increased security regarding the nighttime business of alcohol pedaling; at least that street was typically less busy. But, with a combination of luck and quick work, Mordecai was able to get in without being noticed— partially due, also, to working in the dead of night. He ushered the other two in and shut the door.

Mordecai still knew this place extremely well  Granted, it hadn't been that long since he departed, but still, and it had been even less since his last visit. He guided the other over to the hidden door, down through to the doors of the speakeasy, left unguarded and closed. Opening them revealed the dim insides. The open area, reverberating walls, etcetera. Still looked rather nice.

“Deres not even drinks to shoot here,” Nico mentioned, looking at the empty shelves behind the counter.

“Destroy the furniture and such; I'm going to busy myself with the tunnels and the garage,” Mordecai directed.

“Laissez les bon temps rouler!” Serafine smiled, beginning to follow Mordecai's directions with little to no forethought, with the only discretion being not to ricochet the bullets off of the walls.

Mordecai began down the tunnels, watching out for things of importance. A drop of water dripped onto his forehead from above. Terrible. Each step echoed quietly through the length of these quarried pathways, although the much louder guns mostly overpowered that to the point of being inaudible. As he was nearing the previously cleaned out arsenal, only a few steps away from passing it, he saw a shadow come closer from up ahead. Hoping to get the jump on whomever it was, avoiding potential bloodshed and noise, he quickly stepped into the room he’d robbed recently, the lock disengaged and thrown onto the floor. He lightly closed the door in front of him as he stood silently in the dark, his own breath being the main thing he heard. Then, the steps from outside the room stopped, and Mordecai began to open the door. However, right before that, he heard the click of the lock back over the door. He attempted to open the door, only to find it now locked from the outside.

“Hey, what the hell’s goin’ on? There’s gunshots,” they asked.

Mordecai stayed silent, waiting for some, _some,_ sort of chance to fix the stupid mistake he’d just made. How did he _not_ see this coming? He was _not_ thinking straight as of now.

“You, the guy locked in that room— what’s going on?” they continued.

“Nothing that concerns you I’m sure,” Mordecai spoke through the door.

“...Who’s out there?”

“A pair who won’t hesitate to shoot you if you show your face, I’m afraid.” Mordecai answered, “Unlike me, as false as it sounds, if you happen to let me out of here.”

“No no, you’re with them, you’re trying to break shit or kill someone— you stay in _there._ And _they’re_ getting out of here.”

“Go ahead, knock yourself out.”

“Oh, and before I go, lemme guess who sent you; the Marigolds?”

“Figure that out for yourself.”

“Okay, so yeah, they did.” they said, “Well, you can stay in there until this whole thing’s resolved.” Then the footsteps were heard again, going back the way that they came.

Well, damn. This was completely terrible. Mordecai felt near the door for a light switch, finding it within a few seconds. Clicking it on, the room was illuminated. Clean as before, he was at least grateful that he was locked in this place already made up to his standards, not like when he first arrived here. After a look around the room, seeing no other door or hole in the wall to leave through, obviously, he put his ear up against the door, listening for his fellow companions’ gunshots and hopefully footsteps; it was completely impossible for him to get himself out from where he was. The gunshots continued for a couple more minutes, with no discernable pattern or stop seeming to come through. Then, without any warning, they stopped, and there was silence.

Surely, Mordecai thought, the Savoys had just now stopped, would notice his absence, and would follow his trail to find where’d he’d gone off to. Within the next couple minutes, however, that seemed less and less likely. Then, he began to think that maybe they’d been caught. They’d been shot, chased off, or arrested, as unlikely as that seemed in Mordecai’s mind. As he was formulating some sort of theory as to what was happening and why no one was coming to help him, he began to hear footsteps from where Mordecai had been coming. He listened intently, ignoring his restless thoughts for just a moment.

The footsteps stopped right outside of the door, and whoever was making them stood outside the door for several moments before they spoke, “Who are you?” This voice was undoubtedly familiar— Mitzi. They were down here now, and he was currently without a way out, and without partners to let him out. Things had gone south so fast.

“It’s Mordecai,” he replied, finding no reason nor way to lie his way out of this situation.

“Mordecai? What… why would you do all of this? Was there really any reason? Was there any reason to destroy _everything?”_ Mitzi asked, sadness, or more accurately, betrayal, quickly saturating her voice.

“I was ordered to, I’m afraid.”

“And you did it? You waltzed right in here and shot my business to pieces? Was what you _just_ did not enough?”

“Asa—”

“Was this not all enough for Asa? I’m already in debt and practically making no income, does he really need to shoot all that I have left?”

“I—”

“Save it, Mordecai… I understand why you would’ve done this, but now I need to find some sort of way to deal with this. I’m not giving Asa what he wants, that son of a bitch. He’s gonna have to try a little harder than that to take me down,” Mitzi declared, a tinge of confidence, perseverance creeping into her voice instead of the betrayal.

“That’s inherently foolish, Mitzi. Things are only—”

“I don’t care what you have to say, Mordecai. Not to mention, _you_ happen to have locked yourself in _my_ establishment.” Mitzi audibly turned to the side and continued, “Thank you for that, Zib.”

“I’m trying to help you, Mitzi. This isn’t going to help anyone, especially not you, continuing with this asinine scheme even as you bleed money.”

“I don’t care. I’m happy bleeding out on my own.”

“...Fine, I suppose I can’t influence you. I just strongly—”

“Shut it, Mordecai. I doubt you have me in mind at all, anyway.” Mitzi paused, “But anyways, I hope you enjoy it in there because as I work this whole situation through, you’re gonna spend the night in there. If you wanna come back here and destroy it, then you can sacrifice a day or two at _least.”_

“You—! You can’t just leave me locked in here, Mitzi!”

“Of course I can. It’s as easy as this,” Mitzi responded, footsteps starting to head back towards the speakeasy.

“You can’t just hold me hostage!” Mordecai cried out, afraid that, despite his pleads, they most certainly could. It seemed his partners just completely disappeared without him, leaving him to deal with all of the consequences. Disastrous. Every moment of the last ten had just been disastrous. And now, what was just supposed to be an easy trip now had him held hostage in a storeroom in some underground tunnels. This wouldn’t look good when he came back, if he _could_ come back.

Mordecai sat down against the wall. Well, he was going to end up sleeping here, it seemed. The room was devoid of any sort of soft anything, and the cold floor, cold air, and potential rodents didn’t make it seem any more appealing. Mordecai took off his hat and positioned his arm behind his head as he lied on his back. It was uncomfortable with the suit, but it was the best he was gonna get. He sat there as he let the worries and concerns about this mission run through his head as he stared up at the ceiling. Conceivably, he was going to get _very, very_ familiar with that ceiling.


	3. Captivity

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai spends his first night as a hostage. Nothing seems to be going his way, even from a hostage's perspective, it seems.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here's the third chapter. It may have taken a while, which is due mostly to the fact that my first draft for this chapter wasn't really good. Things were paced too fast, and too much of the dialogue was useless and uncharacteristic of everyone. So, I scraped it and wrote the whole thing over, moving parts about and pacing things differently. I hope this chapter is written okay, as a result. Little shorter than the first draft and my personal preferences, but, what c]are you gonna do? Anyway, this chapter doesn't quite have too much going on, but it sets the stage for some fun stuff next chapter, which is where the beginnings of the gay will shine through in. Anyway, enjoy the chapter, and don't forget to comment if I mess something up either literary or canonical.

Sleep didn’t come to Mordecai for a while. It was past midnight when Mordecai even first stepped foot in the establishment, and it had to have been hours before he was finally asleep. After sitting there for several minutes, he convinced himself he could break out, and then spent the next twenty minutes looking for some alternative exit or potential escape, which didn’t work. In a vain attempt, he tried to use his pistol to shoot the lock on the door apart, which left him without any bullets and still no exit. Clearly, that just wasn’t going to work. So, sitting back down, he tried to fall asleep. He simply lied there, changing positions occasionally, never quite getting comfortable on the hard floor. But eventually, he was simply tired enough and had been lying there long enough that sleep took him.

And still, that night didn’t treat Mordecai well. He woke up at least three times, uncomfortable and cold on the floor. His suit was starting to bother him, and he was sure he was starting to bruise his shoulders. He kept wanting to check the time, but that would require turning the lights back on, which would blind him and just keep him from sleep for that much longer. Besides, the anxiety that came with knowing the time would bother him. But, so was the curiosity. He was moments away from getting up and checking anyway when he fell back asleep. Not even six hours had passed and Mordecai was already miserable.

“They’re in here?” a loud voice echoed through the tunnels. Mordecai’s ears perked up instinctively, and his eyes opened with a sudden tired unhappiness.

“Yeah, honey. He’s in there,” Mitzi said, her voice quickly recognizable.

“Who was it, again?”

“Mordecai. You remember Mordecai. Worked with Viktor? He was at lunch the other day?”

“Oh, but of course!” the voice replied, “Why do we have them locked up in the storeroom?”

“Well, he more or less locked himself in there. Isn’t that right, Mordecai?” Mitzi asked in a rather patronizing tone of voice; Mordecai’s name being said slowly, yet with plenty of force.  
“Huh?” Mordecai mumbled, still barely awake and still very much on the floor. At this point, he only really heard the loud voice and his name being called in the midst of the conversation.

“Yeah, well, him and his gang came in here and wrecked the place. All those bullets in the stage and bar? That’s his fault,” Mitzi explained.

“Those bullets in the stage weren’t always there as a sort of… rustic touch?”

“No, they weren’t, Rocky, those are new.” Rocky, huh? The band guy from lunch? Interesting.

“Oh. Well, it’s good he’s locked up now, then. What’re you planning on doin’ with him now?” Rocky wondered.

“Well, clearly, we’re just gonna have to kill him.”

“What?” Mordecai blurted out, suddenly sitting upright. That got him awake.

“I’m joking, Mordecai. It was just a joke. I’m not gonna kill you.” Mitzi paused. “No, I don’t know what I’m gonna do with him yet, Rocky. Keep him in here for now probably. I’m ready to strangle him, personally, but I don’t think that’ll help anything, so he’ll just stay in here until we have a reason to do something with him.”

“Surely you must let me out to eat and such every now and then,” Mordecai added.

“We’ll deal with that when we come to it. Right now, I’ve got a load of work ahead of me, dealing with our new mess, so I’ll be upstairs organizing things. You hear that too, right, Rocky? I can’t deal with any sort of accidents or catastrophes with you, so—”

“You won’t have to worry about that, Miss M, I’ll keep everything under control. Even Mordecai.”

“I’m plenty able to conduct myself, thank you very much,” Mordecai stated.

Mitzi thought for a moment. “Yeah, you know what? Watch over Mordecai for me. Pull up a chair, make sure the door stays locked, and keep Mordecai under control; don’t want him escaping.”

“Really?” Rocky asked, somewhat gleefully.

“Really?” Mordecai simultaneously asked, downtrodden.

“Really. I trust you’ll be able to keep him in check, Rocky. It’ll take all of your attention, so it’s best to stay right here and not go anywhere, keeping your ear to the ground, okay?”

“I’ll do it! Mordecai won’t go anywhere, I assure you, Miss M,” Rocky smiled.

“Good to hear. I’m sure you’ll fit the role perfectly.” Mitzi tittered, “But, I’ve got business to attend to. Good luck, Rocky. And you be sure to enjoy yourself too, Mordecai!” Mitzi echoed down the tunnels, walking out.

“So now to keeping you in that room… Oh! I should go grab a chair. I know…” Rocky muttered, his voice echoing as he trailed off, walking away.

Well, having a watching eye, even in the form of an incompetent, shrill band member would be detrimental to any potential escape attempts, though, to be fair, he was getting nowhere with the previous attempts, so maybe that was alright. But, an undeniable fact was that having Rocky here would be extremely bothersome. He did  _ not _ want to have Rocky right on the other side of the door for hours, let alone minutes. And even still, there seemed to be no guarantee that he’d be able to eat or use the bathroom; Mordecai was not,  _ not, _ going to use this room, the one he was going to spend most, if not all of his time in, like a restroom. Mordecai would sooner die than urinate in a corner and then sleep by it a few hours later. But, seeing as he had no assurance he’d be able to eat, it was also possible he  _ would _ sooner die, by simply starving to death.

So, it would seem conditions weren’t good, and the overall situation was no better, Mordecai thought while Rocky had left. The best course of action, it would seem, would be to just play along. Clearly, if his vain attempts during the night proved nothing else, it showed that there wasn’t quite any way to force himself out of here, at least without a pickaxe or something similar. So, he had two options.

One, bide his time, play along, lay low, and survive, until eventually the Savoys or someone else came back for him, and rescued him from his captivity. Surely, Asa would have someone come get him if he was here for long enough. But, seeing as the Savoys were incompetent enough to leave him in the first place, maybe that wasn’t something to count on. So, secondly, he could seem trustful, build bonds, and then take advantage of those to escape. He could pander to Rocky, build trust between the two of them, and when the perfect opportunity struck, use it to escape and leave both this room and the establishment. That would require plenty of emotional manipulation, which Mordecai was rather confident he could provide. But, it could be risky, and potentially dangerous; backfiring could result in worse than just being locked away. However, at this point, it seemed he had few options and even fewer resources at his disposal.

That was when Rocky returned, grunting before setting down a crate. He then pushed it around a little, so that it was only about three feet away from the door. Rocky sat down on it with a breathy exhale.

“So, whaddya doin’?”

“...Sitting here?”

“Not trying to escape?”

Mordecai sighed. “No, of course not.”

“Good.” Rocky was silent for a moment. “You know, this reminds me of when I—” This wasn’t going to be enjoyable in any shape or form, Mordecai was completely assured. But, if he played his cards right, it would all be worth it in the end, because he would be able to leave the establishment, back at work, without needing to talk to the wreck that was Rocky ever again. So, now the task was to find a way to listen to Rocky and respond without sounding ready to kill him.


	4. Guillotine

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai still hasn't solved the issues he faces, and Rocky isn't quite helping, despite the interesting, bordering on macabre, stories. Mordecai is annoyed, concerned, and anxious with the uncertainty the future holds.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This chapter felt like it took forever. I'm not actually quite sure exactly how long it took between chapters, but it still feels like I took a while. While I started my first draft of this chapter, I read The Iceman, which you might have seen pop up in my bookmarks. After reading that, especially the utterly fantastic character representation in the first story of the series, I scraped the first draft and started over, having seen what I was writing was clearly inferior. I'm not quite sure that I've quite reached the level that I wanted to get at, seeing that story, but I tried. The main thing I tried to do better was the characters, which I felt weren't being represented well enough. Whether this chapter seems to have actually improved or not, I'm not too sure. But anyway, this one's plenty long, which is partly due to me trying to work out those writing muscles I got jealous about, and partly because of issues of where I was first gonna end this chapter. I felt like where I cut it didn't have enough happen, so I went on to the next natural stopping point. Regardless, the chapter ended up much longer than I first anticipated, and still, still, didn't get to the specific scene I'd intended to get to within this chapter. Guess I was especially verbose withing this one, for better or for worse. Seems the same is true for this note. Anyway, the only actually important thing I have to say is that when I say 'gave it a shave and a haircut' later in this chapter, I mean the specific knocking pattern many people do, just in case there's any potential confusion on that. Anyways, enjoy!

A few hours had passed by now. His pocket watch let him know the time was about one in the afternoon. The lights he'd switched on had attracted a few bugs, inexplicably. Mordecai sat with his back against the wall, his legs propped up, his arms loosely wrapped around them, keeping an eye on the bugs. Rocky had been going on nearly the whole time. But, keeping true to his efforts, he kept from telling him off, or from finding some way to kill him through the door. Instead, he tried to keep friendly and trustful, or at least, as much as he could muster or bare to muster. And it seemed, the pandering work _was_ paying off— somewhat, at least. No longer did he ask if Mordecai was escaping, and he’d all but dropped the prison warden attitude that had subtly underlain everything.

Rocky had talked about everything from previous work experience to current work experience to times with his cousin to random babblings that had seemingly no meaning. Mordecai, through this, had learned more than he expected or prepared to about Rocky. He’d traveled around plenty, it seemed. He’d also had more near-death experiences than Mordecai would have ever expected. But, while that was all plenty interesting, he’d also learned that Rocky had certain disdainful qualities about him. From what he’d heard, it sounded as if he ate waffles every other meal, and he often _drank syrup._ So, Mordecai had learned that while Rocky was slightly more experienced than he let on, and surprisingly articulate at times, he was also a complete _disaster._ Mordecai was glad that he was on the other side of a door.

More than ever, Mordecai felt terrible. Ignoring the bugs and the hard floor and the lights that were burning themselves into his retinas, he had some serious complaints. Mordecai last ate… shortly after noon of the previous day? It was around then, meaning it’d been practically a whole day between meals. And it’d been maybe eight hours since he’d had anything to drink, and he was plenty parched. He’d also only slept maybe three hours and was dirty from being on the floor all night in the same suit he'd worn for _two days now._ And yet still, he hadn’t used the bathroom in several hours. So, Mordecai basically had to pander like his life depended on it, because, looking at his situation, it _did._ Luckily, seeing as Rocky hadn’t eaten yet, he had a chance to perhaps convince him to let him out and for the both to eat. Rocky seemed rather amenable, so there was certainly the possibility.

“So I asked, ‘Are you sure you know what you’re doing?’, and he said, ‘Well, bully, ol’ chap, of course I do,’” Rocky said, doing impressions for his quotes, the latter being somewhat breathy and thick. “But I didn’t trust him, so I pulled myself back at _just_ the last second… and that blade fell and sliced _right_ through the seat! He’d tried to guillotine me! I’d been nearly guillotined! A guillotine most foul! So I looked at him and went—”

Rocky had been going on about some sort of bizarre act he had been part of out west for a few minutes now. Apparently, some sort of magic act that wasn’t very magic. Sure, it was interesting, and it wasn’t like Mordecai had anything else to do, but this wasn’t really helping his cause.

“And he had the audacity— _audacity_ — to act like it was all _my_ fault! And I swear upon Aletheia, he pulled out some sort of shiv, and told me that if I didn’t ‘do it right’, he was gonna stab me. Clearly, he was desti… dele…” Rocky snapped as he remembered, “delusional, that’s it! He was clearly delusional. So I swallowed, I steadied myself, and I firmly let him know th— Freckle! Oh, and if it isn’t that darling Ivy!” Rocky shouted off to the side, clearly talking to other people in the tunnel. “What might the two of you been doing, I wonder?” He had a rather teasing tone in his voice at that. “Er, aren't you supposed to be at the café, Ivy?”

“No, Mitzi didn't open it today! Says there was a break-in!” someone shouted down the tunnel.

“Who are you screaming at?” Mordecai asked through the door.

“Oh— my cousin and his snuggle-bunny. They’re both cards, really.”

“What’re you doing down here, Rocky?” someone else asked from beyond the door, presumably the cousin, judging by the voice.

“Talking and keeping an eye on our captive. Say hi!” Rocky explained.

“Hello?” Mordecai cooperated.

“Uh, hi?” the voice paused, and then more quietly, “Who is that, Rocky? What’re they doing here?”

“Freckle, you remember Mordecai; he was the scary one from the lunch! He’s one of the ones who broke in last night.”

“Oh. Are they the ones who shot everything back there?” Freckle wondered.

“Mordecai? Like, ‘shot Viktor in the kneecaps’ Mordecai?” the other asked. Well, it seemed there was a rather negative reputation of him here. Not that that wasn’t necessarily to be expected, but it was seeming more and more obvious that he was the bad guy here. Again, not that unexpected, but not something he’d quite thought about. And it wasn’t really that great a feeling to be so clearly and unapologetically rendered evil. Other than annoyance, boredom, and discomfort, that seemed to be one of the main feelings he’d been experiencing here.

“Yes, that Mordecai, Ivy. And yes, he broke in— he works for the Maribel, you see; fierce competitors.” Rocky stated.

“Why’s he here?” the two asked near simultaneously, although with wildly varying tones. Freckle seemed concerned, and Ivy sounded rather irritably confused.

“Bad luck on his part, it seems.” That was an understatement, really. “So now we’ve got him here to… well, I suppose he’s collateral on the Marigold’s behalf.”

“How long’s he been in there?” Freckle questioned.

“What’s your problem, shooting Viktor in the knees? He can barely bend them now! And don’t forget his lungs are full of holes now, too! Do you really think he deserved either of those? Not to mention, you—” Ivy ranted, practically throwing herself against the door all of a sudden, making Rocky recoil back.

“...Well, he’s been in there since last night,” Rocky answered, recomposing himself as Ivy continued to shout at the door.

“Has he had anything to eat?” Freckle continued.

“Well, he’s… I suppose he hasn’t, has he?”

“Shouldn’t he get to eat something?”

“Well... who even knows if he's hungry?” Freckle continued to look with a certain concern at Rocky. “Okay, lemme ask him.” Rocky stepped over towards the door, lightly pushing Ivy aside a tiny bit. “Hey, Mordecai, are you hungry?”

“Hey! I was busy yelling at him!” Ivy replied.

“It certainly would be nice to have something to eat. Or drink, for that matter,” Mordecai explained.

“Hmm, alright,” Rocky thought, “so you'd prefer food over no food? If you had the choice you’d choose ‘food’? You’d be a happier soul if you had it? Food, that is?”

“...Yes, it would certainly be preferable. Using a toilet would also be preferable.” Ugh, he was practically having to beg for basic rights. This whole experience was teaching him a valuable lesson about trusting his compeers.

“Okay, noted.” Rocky stepped back. “Well, I guess he does, but, uh, it’s also not really my call to make, Freckle. If anyone’s to decide that, it’s gonna be Miss M, not me, you know? I agree, but I don’t know what she thinks.”

“You should go ask her. We shouldn’t be starving hostages.”

“Ugh, enough of the sound logic, cousin.” Rocky began to stretch. “Why the sudden onslaught of well-backed empathy and morality?”

“I, uh…”

“Hey, are you leaving?” Ivy asked, abruptly stopping her verbal assault.

“Well, I was gonna go ask Miss M about letting Mordecai drop the hostage role momentarily and possibly recuperate some,” Rocky said. Well, here was Mordecai’s opportunity, and he didn’t even have to put in effort to get it; that kid just gave it right to him. That might have been the first truly good thing to happen to Mordecai in the last twelve hours.

“I wanna come,” the two responded, again, near simultaneously.

“Oh, well... I don’t see why not,” Rocky answered before leaning towards the door, “Hey there Mordecai, I’m gonna go speak with Miss M about letting you out to take care of your business for a bit; I’ll be back shortly. Don't go anywhere!” He had an audible smile in his last comment.

“You know as well as I that I physically can't,” Mordecai stated dryly.

“I know!” Rocky paused and then quieted, calming after telling his bad joke. “Alright, let's go talk to Miss M.” Their footsteps echoed as they began to leave.

Well then, Mordecai could relax, no longer having somewhat interesting, but generally bothersome stories forcefully retold at him. Not to mention, it seemed likely that his hunger situation would be resolved for him. Or at least, he _hoped_ it would be, but he couldn't quite guarantee that at this point. So now, he let his thoughts wander some, although only to the point of still deeply assessing his potential escapes, so perhaps he didn't let them wander much at all. Truly, he was going to be in hot water when he got back to the Maribel. Given that he _could_ get back, that was.

Rocky began up the stairs that led down to the speakeasy, having passed the establishment already. By his side were Freckle and Ivy, quietly talking to each other. Rocky didn't quite notice as he ascended, not distracted as he concentrated on the task at hand. Upon reaching the top of the stairs, he pulled the latch and opened the door. The three filed out before carefully shutting the hidden door behind them. The Little Daisy Café was empty, as well as nearly entirely quiet, with the only audible sounds being noise leaking in from outside.

“She upstairs?” Rocky asked, turning to the other two.

“Probably. She was on the telephone when I last saw her,” Ivy replied. Rocky nodded and began towards the front door. Shortly after unlocking it, they started climbing the stairs up towards Mitzi's office, ignoring all of the various things about as they walked, practically artifacts of a different era. Upon reaching the mostly shut doors of her office, Rocky gave it a shave and a haircut with his fist, held up slightly below eye level, before peeking into the room with a huge grin, characteristic of Rocky.

Putting her hand over the receiver of the phone, Mitzi said, “Gimme a sec, sweetheart.” She then went back to talking on the phone, clearly generally irked. Rocky nodded as he walked in, quietly. Ivy and Freckle followed although they trailed behind some. Rocky stood there idly, holding his wrist behind his back as he waited. Ivy and Freckle quietly whispered to each other, leaving Rocky standing ahead of them. A couple minutes of seemingly negative business talk later, Mitzi said goodbye to whomever she was speaking with and put the phone back somewhat forcefully. She sighed, quieting the two whispering, “What is it, Rocky?”

Rocky began, “Well, we were wondering if we should let Mordecai out so he could eat and drink and, well, deal with the things he can’t do from inside the storeroom. Well actually, Freckle brought it up, but I agree with him. I asked Mordecai about it, and it seems like he’s being honest about it. Or, at least, it _seems_ like it; it’s a little hard to tell. But, he's been in there for a while now, and he probably should be given something to eat and drink and all. It truly would be bad for us if we let the Marigold’s Mordecai _starve to death._ You know? That’s not an enemy _I’d_ want to make, but I—”

“Okay, okay, Rocky.” Mitzi stopped his ramblings with a hand held up, the other rubbing her forehead, covering her eyes with her hand as she thought. Letting her hand fall down her face, she began, “Alright. Well, I’ve got something here. We’re really stretching everything as of now, but I think we might be able to manage. So, I need someone to go speak with Viktor concerning good places to find some decent wholesale, and seeing as the café’s closed right now, and you have a gift speaking with Viktor, Ivy, you should go over and talk to him. Just go talk to him and come back here and we can try to go get it quickly. Besides, you like dealing with these sorts of things, right?”

“Yeah, that sounds good! I can do that,” Ivy said.

“Okay, so, Mordecai.” Mitzi took a deep breath, exhaling slowly. “You’re right, sweetheart, letting Mordecai die _would_ be bad. So, we can let him out for a bit. As—”

Rocky interrupted, “He’s kinda scary though, what should—”

“Please, honey, lemme say what I need to say.” She seemed to be in a rather negative mood.

“Oh. Sorry, Miss M.”

“It’s alright. But, you can let him out for, say, an hour. But, I’m gonna need both of you boys watching him to make sure he doesn’t try anything funny. I’m sure he has a gun on him, so I’ll need you to pat him down, and take that away from him. Then, the… uh, you…” She snapped as she struggled to remember something. “What’s your name again, sweetheart?” She looked at Freckle.

“Calvin,” he stated.

“Freckle,” Rocky said just slightly later, although louder, than Freckle.

“Calvin. You can take that gun off of Mordecai and keep it on yourself. I want you to try to keep him from trying to run out of here. Let him know that if he tries to run out of the door he’ll get shot, okay?”

“I don’t really wanna shoot him,” Freckle explained.

“Well, hopefully, it won’t come to that, but you’ve gotta be able to so that he won’t run off. Besides, he’ll be fine; he’s tough enough. And, uh, actually, take this just in case he’s unarmed.” Mitzi grabbed the pistol she’d used the other night off of her desk and held it up, out to Freckle, who stepped forward and grabbed it. “Let him know that you have some firepower on you, and let him know that you’ll use it.”

“...Alright.”

“Okay. So if you both watch him over, and Calvin keeps a gun on him, you can escort him up to the café, and— my god this is stupid— get him something to eat and drink, let him use the bathroom, all that. But keep an eye on him, keep him from running, and keep anyone on the street from getting too suspicious of what’s goin’ on. Okay? Then bring him down and lock him back up. You two can do that, right?”

“Of course!” Rocky replied exuberantly.

“Alright, well, you three go do all that, and _please_ keep all of it under control, okay? Don’t get distracted, Ivy, business counts on this. And boys, please keep with Mordecai, he’s a clever one, so don’t let him be unsupervised. Normally I wouldn’t have you all do this, but my hands are pretty tied right now,” Mitzi explained.

“Of course, perfectly understandable.” Rocky smiled. “We’ll deal with it as cleanly and efficiently as possible! You don’t have to worry about a thing!” He began towards the doors. “Follow, young Freckle.”

The three left the office, leaving it silent. They pulled the doors mostly closed behind them, bringing the room back to how it was before their visit. Mitzi sighed, took a moment in deep thought, and then went back to the telephone. This was going to be a disaster, wasn’t it?


	5. Precaution

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai finally gets basic decency. Then loses it again. Then gets it back briefly before losing it again. Then it's back, it seems. And Rocky notices something about Mordecai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this isn't typically the time of day I'd upload, as the spirit to write only seems to come in the dead of night, but I managed to top off this chapter while the sun was still out. This originally was going to have more of the scene that I leave off on, but it was just getting so much longer than I first expected. This is about half of one scene and I originally intended for three. I was shown wrong... by me. Anyway, nothing toooo eventful, but I guess that just needs to happen every now and again. And I'm also a little unsure if the characters are quite in personality and a lot of this feels kind of awkward and such. But, I'm excited to announce that it was all for a good cause: we've got our first hint of gay here. It's not very far off now. But anyway, please enjoy.

Ivy had just left, heading out towards Viktor’s, ready to extract some valuable information out of him. And now, Rocky and Freckle had made their way back to the limestone tunnels. Freckle held the small pistol he'd been given in his hand as he followed Rocky, who seemed to almost always lead the way between the two of them. Rocky noted his cousin’s rather blank, expressionless countenance, which was either disconcerting or reassuring, and for the life of him, Rocky couldn’t quite pick out which. Upon reaching the door, Rocky knocked on it, the two outside almost huddling around it. “We’re here to escort you to your meal, monsieur,” Rocky said, putting on a stuffy, somewhat uptight voice.

“Is that so?” Mordecai wondered, his ears perked at both the sudden voice and the mention of a possible meal. This was a potential chance to escape, granted the opening for it came through. That was certainly important and very enticing, but the thought of just eating something somewhat clouded his mind from other, equally important thoughts at that moment. Normally, he'd have a much less severe reaction to such things, but it was almost two in the afternoon now, and that meant it had certainly been more than twenty-four hours since he'd last eaten. Sure, he wasn't really doing all that much, but that didn't warrant the starving and all that.

“Why indeed so. We’re gonna let you out of there for an hour-ish. You’ll have the finest lunch you’ve ever had… as a hostage.” Rocky’s hands moved to the locks on the door. Freckle stood behind him, the gun in his hand, at guard.

“A high bar to clear, as it were.” Mordecai’s comment was dry enough to nearly confuse its meaning. It was a joke, kind of, but that plain, matter-of-fact tone of voice was about the best Mordecai could muster to tell it with. That was the best he could  _ ever  _ muster. He stood up, standing by the door, beginning to tidy up his clothes. He brushed himself down and adjusted his glasses.

“Well, we’ll have to try extra hard then.” His ear to ear grin was clearly audible in his comment. He unlocked the first of the two locks.

“Will there be a chance to use the bathroom before said lunch?” There was the 'begging for the bare necessities’ thing again.

“Sure, why not? You've  _ got _ the hour.” The second and final lock was undone. Rocky grabbed the door by its handle and swung it open, making Mordecai flinch from its sudden, hasty opening. “There you go!”

The two were now face to face, which, despite the hours of conversation that had already taken place, hadn’t even happened yet on account of the door. Mordecai looked familiar to Rocky— how could he forget someone like  _ Mordecai?  _ The spectacles and the unabashedly fancy and proper dress and way of conducting himself stuck out strongly. And likewise, Rocky looked familiar to Mordecai. Rocky was just as conspicuous as Mordecai was seen to be, with that blue suit and the grin that looked as if it comprised most of his face, not to mention that large, obnoxious tie. Both looked at each other for a moment before Rocky spoke again, “Alright, well, I need to pat you down before we get going.”

“Must you—” Mordecai began before Rocky began to pat him down. Mordecai scowled as Rocky’s hands scanned across his body. Freckle took a step forward, ready to take the gun off of Rocky's hands after he grabbed it.

Rocky stopped after a few seconds and grinned. “Is that a gun in your pocket, or are you just happy to see me?” Mordecai's brow furrowed and he frowned further as Rocky's hand began to fumble about inside his overcoat. Rocky grabbed Mordecai's gun and pulled it out. “It’s a gun, as it turns out.” He held the gun out in the general direction of Freckle, who grabbed and pocketed it. Noticing Mordecai's continued scowl, Rocky said, “Joke. It's a joke, Mordecai. I knew it was a gun. I doubt you're ever happy, let alone seeing me.”

Rocky continued to pat Mordecai down for another moment, checking if there was anything else worth noting or any other weapons on him, but this revealed nothing new. Except, perhaps, further evidence that Mordecai didn't like being pat down, as it seemed. Rocky stopped and cleared his throat. “Well?” Mordecai asked, fixing his tie and adjusting his suit.

“It’s time to escort you to that meal I promised.” Rocky took a few steps down the tunnel and stopped, turning quickly. “Freckle, you stay behind him and keep your eyes on him.”

“I'm not planning on running.”

“Miss M's orders,” Rocky lifted his hands up as if to say ‘hey, don’t blame me’, before turning back ahead and walking farther away, “not mine.” He finished, turning his head slightly to look at Mordecai with his typical grin before turning back to where he was walking and putting his hands down. Mordecai followed, with Freckle staying behind him, gun in hand.

The tunnels were as damp and dirty as Mordecai remembered, both from back when he used to work in them and from just before being locked up. He observed the various things about he hadn’t bothered to or hand a chance to when he was here last night. For example, there was blood splattered in some areas. Probably belonged to those pig farmers that raided the other day. Surprising that the Lackadaisy did as well as it did, given that it had no guns, really. The pig farmers weren’t particularly formidable enemies, granted, but still.

They reached the actual establishment after just a short walk, and it certainly looked like more of a mess than when he first arrived. There  _ were  _ indeed bullet holes in most things, but it was most noticeable with the lights above. Almost all of the bulbs had been shot out, and glass littered the ground now. And most of the chairs certainly didn’t look particularly inviting to him, personally, with the holes and all that. They passed through the room, towards the main entrance, where the doors were left open. Passing through the doorway, they began up the stairs, with Rocky being a few steps ahead of Mordecai, and Freckle being right behind him, his back occasionally bumping in the gun he held, reminding him of the danger presented by escaping. Rocky carefully opened the hidden door at the top of the stairs, and then held it open as the other two made their way up. He closed it as the two shuffled out of the way.

“So, what’s on the menu?” Rocky asked.

“The washroom,” Mordecai stated, subtly signalling to the door by the shelves with his hand.

“Oh, well th— Err, well…”

“What is it?”

“I can’t leave you by yourself, as Miss M told me, so…”

“Yes?”

“I suppose I should go in with you? To make sure you don’t try anything.” Rocky rubbed the back of his neck with his hand. Freckle looked at him, mildly concerned.

“I assure you, the little one practically prodding me with the gun as we walked up here was plenty deterrent,” Mordecai detested, signalling Freckle with a nod in his direction.

“I know, but I can’t go against what Miss M asked of me.”

“Understood, but that doesn’t change the situation.” So this was the life of a hostage, huh? Arguing over how he might be able to use the bathroom? Even just  _ hearing  _ about the overarching rivalry between the two speakeasies from captivity would be worthwhile as compared to  _ this. _

“What if I just stand the other way? You know, I’m in there and I can do something if you try to run, but I’m just, looking away? Does that work? Is that okay?”

Mordecai wasn’t going to waste time arguing this. He didn’t have the argumental leverage to convince Rocky otherwise on this, and Mordecai had both a set limited time outside of the storeroom and a definite need to just use the washroom, as inelegantly as he could put it at this point, so he was just going to have to agree with him already. “Fine, that’ll do.”

“Alright then.” Rocky adjusted his hat. “Freckle, you just stay out here and wait. Burst in if you hear screaming, struggling, or generally disconcerting noises and feel things might be going south.” Freckle nodded. “Great.” Mordecai opened the door and stepped in, with Rocky following behind, closing the door behind him.

The room was humbly sized, with clean tile floors, the apparently ever-important toilet, and a sink and small mirror opposite it. Generally, rather nice, although it became a bit inconvenient for Rocky, who faced the mirror and tried to avoid looking at Mordecai as he looked the other way. Mordecai began to undo the button of his pants, careful so as to keep himself concealed from Rocky, the intruder. He tried to forget about Rocky and about how he shouldn’t have been in the room with him— it was making him uncomfortable. This whole bathroom debacle had been making him uncomfortable.

Rocky stood with his back to Mordecai, trying to keep his gaze affixed on the wallpaper or in some thousand-yard stare. But, Rocky continued to fail as his gaze kept falling upon Mordecai through the reflection of the mirror, and Rocky began to notice things about him he previously hadn’t. At first, he was just looking at Mordecai with a rather blank mind. But then he suddenly started thinking about Mordecai as he looked at him. Mordecai was rather slim. Sure, he’d noticed before, not like it was some secret or difficult to tell, but as his eyes scanned across his generally unexceptional backside, he took it in more. And he began thinking some more. And he sure did look neat, didn’t he? The spectacles and the fancy outfits had drawn him in earlier, hadn’t they? And— Mordecai flushed the toilet and Rocky quickly darted his eyes away to some random part of the wall, pretending to be distracted with something.

So Mordecai was actually rather attractive. That much had probably been in the recesses of Rocky’s mind since he first saw him, but now he just actively recognized it. He’d been distracted by Mordecai’s antagonizing nature on account of his Marigold position the last time he’d seen Mordecai, so he hadn’t been focusing on his looks at all. But his attraction, on its own, didn’t mean anything; Rocky saw plenty of people as physically attractive. And Mordecai seemed uninterested, impossible to get to, and not even really like the kind of person Rocky would care for, so it wasn’t like he was running the risk of falling in love with the Marigold hostage. But perhaps it might mean a couple of wayward glances.

Mordecai walked over towards the sink, making Rocky step aside, and he began to wash his hands in the basin. “See? Painless,” Rocky said.

“Not physically,” Mordecai stated, his gaze staying steady on his hands.

“Oh Mordecai, what a jokester.”

“Yes, light-hearted whimsy and such.”

“Well, at least you don't seem to be escaping. That's good.”

“Indeed. It's precisely as if someone had declared that exact thing just moments ago.”

“It  _ is  _ like that, isn’t it?” Mordecai finished washing his hands and dried them on a folded hand towel sat next to sink. He carefully unfolded it and scrutinized his hands with it.

“Well, should we—” Rocky paused, expecting Mordecai to be ready to leave, only to turn and see him folding the towel back up. “You don't have to fold that.”

Mordecai's ear twitched, turning towards Rocky some. “Of course I do.” He finished and sat it back where it was.

“Alright, so food, then?” Rocky opened the door a crack.

“Yes, that would be advantageous.”

“Great!” Rocky quickly swung the door open and stepped through the threshold, Mordecai following suit. Freckle, who had been looking out the window, quickly turned to face the door. But his surprised tenseness quickly faded and he stood simply as before. “So, some food is in order. Time for master chef Rocky to whip up some fantastic meals for everyone!”

“No!” Freckle shouted. “You can't do that.”

“Why not? I was excited to use the knives.”

“You've started three fires just in trying to boil water. I'll do it.” He began to walk behind the counter.

“Alright. Would master chef  _ Freckle  _ be so kind as to procure some of their finest flapjacks for retired chef Rocky?” There were those pancakes again.

Freckle nodded. “And, uh, you?” Freckle turned to look at Mordecai, who stood there, less afraid of Freckle after hearing his voice attached to that face, despite the gun.

Mordecai took a quick glance at the shelves and their ingredients. He also thought back to when he used to work here and what he'd sometimes have. He remembered what he'd gotten Mitzi to start selling specifically because of him. He wasn't sure if she would've continued selling it, but it was worth an attempt, especially since it would certainly be enjoyable. “Corned beef, delicatessen style?” he tried.

“Uh, wh—”

“Corned beef, cut thinly, on a sandwich.”

“Oh, alright. I guess if we have some…”

Rocky sat down on a stool by the counter as Freckle turned around and began to work on the requests. Rocky smiled at Mordecai. “Come on, sit down,” he said.

“I've been sitting for hours.”

“You've got reason to now. Not to mention company. Right, Freckle? You’re company.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Freckle said, setting his gun aside as he pulled out a pan.

“See?” Rocky beamed. Mordecai exhaled and sat down on a stool. It was to the right of Rocky and left a stool in between the two of them. “Look, wasn’t that easy?”

“I suppose it was easy enough.”

“That’s the spirit!”


	6. Master Chef

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freckle cooks everyone some lunch. Well, he cooks some pancakes and prepares a sandwich. Yet still, he manages to be uncharacteristically clumsy. Mordecai notices something about Rocky he previously hasn't, and an uninvited guest changes the atmosphere some.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we are: chapter six. More than ten thousand words in just half the chapters as my first story. Although, I'm a tad unhappy with this chapter's current state. Don't get me wrong, it has some moments I really love, but it some pacing problems and a couple moments that just... don't work. And overall, this is basically just exposition and setting up for future chapters. It's got the tiniest bit of gay, some character building, some building *between* the characters, a tiny bit of light-hearted humor, and some generally filler-y dialogue. Also, some more mention of daylight savings, which, you know, hey, comes a day after daylight savings! Oh joy! Anyway, I hope you enjoy it!

The sun shone in through the café’s windows. Freckle turned on the stove and began to search around for ingredients. He wasn’t particularly familiar with all of this. Ivy had shown him earlier, but he’d already forgotten a lot of it. Mordecai grabbed his hat by the crown with his pads of his fingers, setting it down on the counter to the right of him, out of his way. He pulled out his pocket watch; it was about five after two. He looked at it for a moment as he thought. A sun beam reflected off of the watch, shining into Rocky’s eye for a moment. As Mordecai began to put it away, Rocky pointed at it, “What’cha got there?”

Mordecai, caught off-guard by Rocky’s comment, looked up, mildly surprised, so suddenly engrossed in his thoughts that he’d forgotten there were others around. “It’s a watch.” He held it up slightly, showing it to Rocky.

Rocky looked at it for a moment, leaning in to get a good look. “You’re off by an hour.”

“Am I?” Mordecai brought his pocket watch back towards his eyes, quickly checking it again.

“Yeah, daylight savings.”

Mordecai paused. Of course, daylight savings time. Or wait, daylight savings time? “That was more than a month ago.”

“Was it?” He raised an eyebrow.

Mordecai nodded slightly. “Indeed.”

“Huh. Well, you should get around to updating your watch, then.” Rocky paused. “Freckle, would you get me some syrup?”

“I'm gonna put some on the— Oh, uh, sure,” Freckle replied from behind the counter as he, on his knees, searched around for the right thing, rather lost.

“Could you brew some tea as well?” Mordecai requested.

“Yeah, sure,” Freckle said before trying to stand up and banging his head on the counter loudly.

“You okay, Freckle?” Rocky asked, leaning over the counter.

“Yeah.” He held up a container as he sat on the floor with his other hand on his head. “I found the sugar.”

Rocky looked at it. “That says rat poison, cousin.”

Freckle turned it around and looked at it, confused. Sure enough, it did say that. “Ugh.” Freckle put it back where he found it and stood up. “Where is it?”

“Over there,” Rocky said, pointing towards the shelves over to his right.

“Oh. Thanks.”

“Well,” Rocky began, turning toward Mordecai as Freckle walked aside, “how are things with you, Mordecai?”

How  _ were  _ things with Mordecai? Well, he was still a hostage, would be reprimanded once he got back to Asa, and was also mad at himself that he didn’t try to escape just now, using the opportunity of the distracted cousin to try and get out of there without being shot. But he didn’t. He was still without freedom, seeing trouble in the future, and hadn’t taken his best opportunity to escape. “Things could be better, although I suppose they could be worse, too.”

“There you go— optimism!”

“Less optimism and more general knowledge that this isn’t physically the worst thing in the world. For example, I could have a knife at my throat. And even then, that still wouldn’t be the worst; things could still get worse from there.”

“I would never hold a knife to your throat.”

“Not the point, but good to know.” Freckle set a cup on the counter in front of Rocky, which had been mostly filled with syrup. There was that whole 'drinking syrup’ thing. Rocky grabbed the cup and took a sip as Mordecai watched with morbid curiosity.

“I need to find a kettle, but then I’ll get you some tea.” Freckle said, looking at Mordecai. He nodded at him before he turned away and continued to search.

“You’re not a bad guy or anything, right? You don’t seem too bad,” Rocky asked.

“In what sense?” Mordecai wondered.

“Well, you  _ look _ pretty scary and conniving, but you're not really that bad, right? You know what I mean?”

“Not particularly.”

“Well,  _ you  _ don't think you're bad, do you. You're not overly murderous or anything?”

“Not overly. And if that's what you're basing morality off of, then I suppose I'm not too ‘bad.’”

“Well then, good.” He took a sip out of his cup. “How are things over there with the Marigolds?”

“Disconcerting and viscous. And otherwise, it's none of your business.” Mordecai adjusted his glasses, the light reflecting off of it obscuring his eyes from Rocky.

“Oh come on, you're already practically kidnapped— you can go more in depth than  _ that.  _ I wanna hear about all the scandalous details and trade secrets!”

“For both of our sakes, no. Some things are best left unmentioned, Rocky.”

“Excuses, excuses.”

“I'm not—” Loud clattering came from behind the counter, and it sounded as if something might have broken.

“It's good, it's all good.” Freckle stood up. “I found the kettle.”

“You're doing the lord's work, chef Freckle!” Rocky grinned.

“Thanks.”

“Anyway,” Rocky turned back towards Mordecai, “where was I?”

“Wasting my time,” Mordecai stated dryly.

“I'd never.” Rocky stretched back, lifting his arms above his head. As he leaned backward, stretching, his hat fell off and landed on the ground with a whomp. Mordecai watched Rocky stretch as his shirt, tucked into his pants, rode up his stomach just slightly. “Oops.” He turned and grabbed his hat off of the ground, leaning over. He turned back and set it on the counter. He looked over towards Mordecai. He ran his hand through his hair which had flopped over when he leaned to retrieve his hat. He smiled at Mordecai. “So, what d'you plan to do once you're able to leave again?”

“Oh, uh,” Mordecai was getting distracted. Rocky had rather blue eyes that Mordecai hadn't really taken note of. Interesting. “I'll most likely go back to the work I'd been doing before.” He adjusted his glasses, hoping he hadn't floundered too much. Freckle looked up from the bread he was slicing at Mordecai with an expression Mordecai couldn't quite decipher. It looked most like just confusion.

“You're not gonna keep trying to destroy us, are you?”

“It's entirely possible.”

“Ugh. Why do the two have to fight? Why can't they just…” Rocky gestured wildly and completely incoherently, “not do that?”

“Business, as it were.”

“They should just work together. They used to, back in the day, didn't they?”

“Well,” Freckle set a plate with a sandwich on it in front of Mordecai, “it's complicated.” Mordecai looked at Freckle, “Thank you.”

“You're welcome.” There was a tinge of… something in Freckle's voice.

“Come on, give it some flair, Freckle! A ‘bon appétit’ or something,” Rocky said.

“Bon appétit, I guess.”

“Good enough.” Freckle turned around and continued cooking. “Well, it shouldn’t be that complicated. We’re both in the same sector as it were, and working together would just be good for everyone. Even you, Mordecai.”

“While working together would have its upsides, it would also have its downsides, and that’s as much that needs to be said,” Mordecai explained, scrutinizing his sandwich.

“Fine.” Rocky rested his head in the palm of his hand, propped up on the counter by his elbow. He watched as Mordecai began to look between the slices of bread of the sandwich. “We didn’t poison you. Er, well, I can’t speak for Freckle. Freckle, did you poison Mordecai? With that rat poison perhaps?”

“Huh? I didn’t poison him,” Freckle responded.

“See? No poison.”

“Not what I was checking for, but a good idea,” Mordecai stated, taking one last glance before putting the sandwich back together and taking a bite.

“...So, you used to work with Viktor, right? What was that like?” Well, there was an abundance of questions now, wasn’t there? Either Rocky was trying to interrogate him or he had the mentality of an overly curious child. It was most likely the latter, from what Mordecai had gathered.

What was working with Viktor like? That was a hell of a question. Ignoring some of the more piquant aspects, there was a lot to talk about, much of which Mordecai didn’t want to say and Rocky shouldn’t hear. But he supposed it warranted the curiosity; the two of them practically supported the entire establishment back in the day, and they did plenty of work, ranging from benign to outright vicious. But Viktor still worked here, that had been made clear, so how much had he spoken of? Had he mentioned the fact that the— “Now that’s what I like to see, Freckle!” Rocky smiled, Freckle setting a plate of pancakes, completely smothered in syrup before him. Using a fork handed to him, he began to eat the pancakes in a manner that Mordecai, having snapped back to reality, would describe as awful and inhumane. “Well?” he asked, his mouth full of unchewed food.

“Ugh.” Mordecai leaned back some. “Well, I suppose it was interesting. The two of us did plenty of things, many unscrupulous, but we, nearly entirely alone, did all the manual labor the business needed.” Surely that put it succinctly enough, saying what he’d want to hear.

“Yeah but—” he stopped to shove a pancake into his mouth, “wath he the thame? Jutht ath hateful? Glaring?”

“He, uh,” Mordecai was having difficulty dealing with Rocky’s eating, “mostly was. I suppose less hateful than the last time I spoke with him.” Oh god, last time. Just about  _ anyone  _ could be less hateful than Viktor  _ last time. _

“Neat.” Rocky took another bite of his pancakes. Freckle set a second plate with a sandwich on it next to Rocky, to the left of him before the kettle began to whistle, to which Freckle turned around. “Whath that for?”

“That’s  _ my  _ lunch,” Freckle answered, grabbing the tea kettle and bringing it over to the counter.

“Of courthe.”

“Here’s your tea.” Freckle set down a saucer, a teacup on it, in front of Mordecai, inside steaming water and a tea bag.

“Thank you,” Mordecai replied.

Freckle went around and sat down in the seat next to Rocky, and began eating his sandwich, Rocky continued to dig into his pancakes, and with an effort to ignore Rocky’s eating, Mordecai continued to eat his sandwich. The room was silent, as now there was normally quiet Freckle, Rocky devouring his food, and Mordecai finally getting to eat and drink something, so just about no comments were exchanged as they ate.

Rocky was the first to finish his food, having eaten them as quickly as he did. ”Ten outta ten, chef Freckle. You truly are a culinary master.” Rocky pushed his plate away from him some.

“Thankth,” Freckle said, mouth full of sandwich.

“So, does that suffice, Mordecai? Your soul any happier, as it were?”

Mordecai swallowed, “I suppose.” Indeed, trying to keep reserved and composed, this was almost certainly needed, and he already felt much further from death, perhaps even a tad less irritable.

“Great! Don’t want you starving in  _ our _ custody!”

“Good to know you truly care.” Mordecai went to take another bite of his mostly finished sandwich.

“Well of course! You matter even if you  _ are  _ trying to destroy us!” That was rather kind, given the circumstances. Mitzi seemed to want to kill him, Viktor, if here were here, certainly would, Ivy seemed to want to, and even Freckle seems to be rather unhappy with him, judging from his looks and his occasional tone of voice. Yet again, it seemed Rocky was the only one who would be able to support Mordecai in the hostile territory he’d landed himself in.

“A very nice sentiment, Rocky.” Mordecai felt he was being stared at as he, looking down, took a bite of his sandwich, upon saying that. He glanced up and saw Freckle looking at him from over his cousin’s shoulder. What was he trying to accomplish? It was mildly intimidating in the  _ current _ circumstances, seeing as he had a both Mordecai’s gun and one of his own, but he was just a kid, and Mordecai could easily take him on. Was it truly just cheap subduing?

“I’m glad you agree, Mor—” Rocky was interrupted by a knocking against the glass at the front of the store. The three turned around to see a gentleman, dressed in pinstripes, rapping against the window with the knuckle of his index finger. He began to speak, but it was rendered inaudible, only the muffles of what he said being heard. “I can’t hear you!” Rocky shouted back. The man tried to speak again, a tad louder, but still couldn't be heard. “What? I—”

“Why don’t you get up and talk through the threshold?” Mordecai suggested, a bit annoyed.

“That’s a good idea.” Rocky stood up as Freckle and Freckle watched on from their seats. He unlocked the door and opened it some.

The man walked over towards the opening and began to speak, “The café closed today?” This guy looked familiar to Mordecai.

“Yeah, I’m afraid it is. Probably be open tomorrow, though.”

“Shame, was hoping to get some lunch.” The man leaned over and peered in at Freckle and ‘Mordecai on their stools inside. “What are the three of you doing inside if it’s closed?” He stared at Mordecai, who stared right back. This guy was, without a doubt, familiar, but who was he?

“We’re, uh, cleaning. Preparing for tomorrow.”

“I see. Well, I wish you the best on that.” He adjusted his tie. “I’ll be coming by tomorrow, if you’re open, of course. Will I be seeing you then?” Rocky didn’t like his tone of voice.

“Um, probably not. I work, uh, every other day here, usually, that is. But what’s your name? In case we get around to meeting again?”

“You can call me Dominic.” He smiled, extending his hand out.

“Rocky.” Rocky put his hand out, completing the handshake.

“Rocky, alright.” He pulled his hand away as the two stopped. “Rocky.” He cleared his throat. “Well, I’m off. Have yourself a good day, Rocky.”

“You too, Dominic!” He smiled with a fake enthusiasm. Rocky shut the door, pulling himself back inside, as Dominic began to walk away. He locked the door once again. That was all a bit concerning.

Rocky walked back to the counter and sat down. “Did that man seem… off-putting to you at all?” Mordecai asked.

“Yeah, some.” Rocky checked over his shoulder, through the window.

“He seemed rather familiar for some reason…”

“Maybe…”

Rocky scratched the back of his head. Mordecai paused as he thought before taking the last bite of his sandwich. Freckle coughed. Now there was different kind of silence: a concerned one. Who was that? And did it matter? Well, without much more information, a subtle air of distrust and uncertainty continued to linger over them as they began to move past it. Surely, it didn’t matter. Surely.


	7. Dievka

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The boys wrap up lunch, inevitably having to force Mordecai back into the inmate life. Ivy checks up on Viktor and divulges some juicy information while there. Things are made more complicated regarding Mordecai.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo. Chapter seven has been completed. I have comparatively very little to say here because I'm tired as I type this and also finished this chapter yesterday as opposed to less than twenty minutes before uploading like I usually do. This chapter's a little on the short side (compared to my expectations), but it's still pretty alright. Also, with this chapter, I'll be adding Viktor to the character roster. And I mention that because, with this story, Viktor will now be in a majority of Lackadaisy fanfics. Not sure exactly what to say about that, but it's worth noting. I'm glad that I'm managing to keep up the roughly weekly rhythm of chapters. I'll try my best to keep it up, but for a good part of this week I'll be out of town, so I can't guarantee that this week will keep up the pattern. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

The rest of lunch went relatively well and comparatively much less fraying. Freckle and Mordecai finished their food shortly after Rocky, and with the three quickly falling into polite conversation, although it mostly involved just Mordecai and Rocky, they stayed at their seats and talked. Mordecai didn’t want to go back to the storeroom and was truly having a nice conversation, save for the few instances where Rocky acted as he did sometimes. Rocky enjoyed asking questions of Mordecai, getting very vague, confusing insights into the mystery that enveloped him, although only barely scratching the surface, especially with some of them surely being at least white lies. And Freckle, well, Freckle didn’t quite have anything else to do at the moment, but still, it _was_ something interesting to do, although he continued to have spikes of concern about Mordecai, who occasionally said some disconcerting things. Yet overall, it was a nice respite.

But it still needed to stop at some point. Indeed, it was eventually noted that somewhere around an hour and a quarter had passed since Mordecai first left his captivity. And while no one really _wanted_ to just lock Mordecai back up, with each having their own internal reasons for feeling as such, Rocky refused to ignore Miss M’s rather sensible requests, so he began to pack his things back up, as did the other two, and they began to leave the café.

The walk back was rather silent, each thinking their own in-depth thoughts. Freckle hoped that there would be few more interactions with Mordecai before he left, as he felt uneasy about Mordecai’s motives and actions. Rocky was unsure exactly what to do with himself after Mordecai was put back in the storeroom. Was he gonna keep talking to him? Was he gonna leave? Maybe he should ask Mordecai. And Mordecai, the inadvertent man of the hour in the speakeasy, regretted not trying to escape, even with the gun-child being present. He’d gotten distracted and had lost sight of his goal temporarily. And yet still, he also wanted to learn more about Rocky, Freckle too, even, although that surely was just due to the mind games and persuasion Rocky had worked to keep him distracted. Or something along those lines.

Then they reached the storeroom. Freckle stood guard at the side, the gun Mitzi had given him in his hands; he’d checked Mordecai’s gun during their talk upstairs and had already found it empty. Rocky stopped slightly farther down the tunnel from the door, the two cousins creating a sort of path towards the door for Mordecai. “Welp, there you go, Mordecai,” Rocky said.

Mordecai nodded silently and stepped back inside the storeroom. He was about to ask for his gun back before realizing both the futileness of convincing either of them to give him a firearm, as well as the uselessness of the gun in its current state. He took a step back, continuing to look through the threshold as Rocky pushed the door closed. Then Mordecai was in the dark. He turned the lights back on as Rocky began to lock the door once again, the clicks of the mechanisms being rather audible. He took a quick glance around the room, noticing that, yes, nothing had changed. He sat down against the wall yet again.

“So, do you want me to stay here, or should I head out, Mordecai?” Rocky asked.

“At this point, being able to collect my thoughts and relax would be nice,” Mordecai stated.

“So should I go?”

“Yes, if you would.”

“Alright then.” Then quieter, “We can head out, Freckle.” Footsteps began to echo down the hall. “See ya tomorrow then, Mordecai!”

Mordecai thought for just a moment. He suddenly remembered yet another thing that would have been useful to have remembered when he had that hour of freedom. “Would there be some time in the near future to bathe and have clothes laundered?”

The footsteps stopped. Then began moving closer. “I’m sure I could work something out that would let you bathe tomorrow if I talk with Miss M about it. She’s understanding, she’ll get it.” Rocky paused. “As for laundry, well… I could bring some clothes of mine tomorrow, just freshly laundered. They should fit.”

“Freshly laundered? As in, clean?” Ignoring the potential for Rocky’s distasteful fashion to shine through, what truly mattered was that it actually was clean, especially given Rocky’s clothes after simply eating earlier.

“Yup.”

“I suppose that’ll suffice.” Mordecai supposed that Rocky’s clothes _would_ fit him. He hadn’t quite noticed it, but the two _were_ of rather similar height, Mordecai was a couple of inches taller, granted, and nearly identical builds, so surely they would fit, only perhaps being a tad short. Hopefully that wouldn’t be the case, but he could only hope that Rocky would have the foresight to bring slightly larger clothes, given the slight, but certainly existent, difference.

“Nothing but the best for _our_ hostages.”

“Well isn’t that just swell?”

“Sure is. Sure is.” Rocky began to walk away. “Well, bye, Mordecai.”

“Bye.” Mordecai was being perhaps too polite towards his captors, he noted.

Now it was quiet again. Mordecai was substantially less worried about dying here, although no less worried about what might happen once he escaped. That would be disastrous, truly. But now, he had a chance to try to make up for lost sleep from last night. He shifted around, eventually laying down in a similar position and spot as he did the night prior. Just a nap. That would be nice.

Ivy stood outside of the door of Viktor's abode. She'd knocked just a moment ago, and had heard no response. She supposed that was to be expected. Ivy sighed, opening the door. Inside, it was mostly the same as her last visit. The radio was back on the ground like last time, unpowered and silent. That was something, right? She glanced towards Viktor from the radio. He still sat in that chair, the blanket somewhat covering him.

“Hey, Viktor! How're you feeling today?” Ivy walked over towards him, smiling faintly.

“Eh,” Viktor quietly groaned.

“That's good. Have you had anything to eat?”

“No.”

“Well, did you try?”

“No.”

Ivy exhaled. “You managed to turn the radio off, the least you could do is try to eat something.”

“It’s okay.”

“Ugh, you're so stubborn sometimes, Viktor. How are you gonna put yourself back together if you don’t even try?”

“I did. I fixed Bapka’s sink.”

“You went and fixed Mrs. Bapka’s sink? You’re in no condition to even get up, Viktor!”

“Vas fine. Stretched legs, got blood going.” Viktor coughed into his hand.

“You should just take the opportunity to relax and try to close up those chest holes. I know it’s not really in your nature, but it’s for the best.”

“Good advice, dievka. Very vise, you are.”

“I know.” Ivy sat down on a nearby chair, scooting it closer to Viktor. “Do you need anything in particular?”

“No.” He shifted slightly, grimacing as he did. “How is Mitzi and business?”

“It’s okay. Some Marigold lackeys came by last night and busted the place some, but I think Mitzi’s handling it right now. It’s crazy though, they just broke in and shot apart the furniture and the lights and stuff, and Mitzi’s been on the phone basically the whole day because of it. But, she sent me here because we need some good alcohol to sell, and we’re sure that you know of a good place.”

“Ya. They can go to Defiance— buy drinks there from mortuary.”

“Where’s Defiance? And why does the funeral home have liquor?”

“Vest some. I used to vork vith them. They used business to smuggle on trains.”

“Oh, neat.”

“But you stay out of it, dievka.”

“Hey, I can go smuggle alcohol, too!”

“Dangerous. Haff Rocky go. He’s expendable.”

“Well I’m not sure he’d have a chance to— him and Calvin are busy right now, which is why _I_ came. They’re— oh yeah! Some guy got locked in the storeroom and is a hostage or something now. They're keeping watch on him.” She paused. “Well actually, you know him, don’t you?”

“Who?”

“Um… Mordecai, was it? I’m _pretty_ sure that he’s—”

“Mordecai?” Viktor, sitting up some, wondered loudly, at least compared to his muttering tone before. He had a small coughing fit into his hand, having shouted too loudly in his current state.

“You okay?”

“Ya. Vhat is Mordecai doing there?”

“Not much. He’s been locked up in the storeroom since he broke in with those other Marigolds. And I told him off earlier for shooting you in the knees and for breaking in, so he should realize his wrongdoings and feel guilty.”

“Vell, I should pay him visit.” Viktor started to get up. Ivy quickly got up and ushered him back into the chair.

“You’re not going back there, Viktor! Especially not just to harass Mordecai! At least wait until you’ve recovered.”

“Not harass. Just talk.”

“I hope you realize I don’t believe that. And again, maybe you can do that later, in a couple weeks or something if he's still there.” She sat back down.

Viktor sighed. “Fine. Vould you do favor for me, dievka?”

“Sure!” She perked up in her seat.

“Open drawer there.” He pointed to the drawer closest to Ivy on the table beneath the window.

“Here?” She opened the drawer as she spoke. She looked in. It was full of papers, small tools, and various trinkets, practically overfilling the container. “It’s full of junk.”

“Ya. Look in the bottom.”

Ivy rooted around through all the stuff, pushing things out of the way. “Okay?”

“See broken glasses?”

Indeed, there was a pair of dusty broken glasses, one of the lenses completely missing while the other was heavily cracked. She grabbed them carefully. “These?” She held them up.

“Ya. Give those to Mordecai. Tell him it’s from me.”

“Alright.” She closed the drawer, pocketing the glasses. She sat back down. “Is that it?”

“That’s it, dievka.”

“Alright, I’ll do that.”

“Thanks.” He slumped his arms over the armrests of the chair.

“...Let’s get you some lunch, then.”

“I’m fine.”

“Nah, let’s get you some lunch. Turn the radio back on while we’re at it.” Standing up, she grabbed the radio off of the floor and set it back on the table. Viktor groaned. Ivy plugged the radio back into the wall and tuned it to a music station.

Ivy spent the next hour or two conversing with Viktor and working to make sure he was alright while he recovered. She’d come by yesterday, but she’d only had enough time to check in. Now she made sure that Viktor had something to eat, something to drink, at that he wasn’t overexerting himself while he still had buckshot in his chest. Viktor appreciated Ivy’s efforts, but that didn’t stop him from being woefully annoyed.

Mordecai had worked his way back into their path. He’d worked his way back into the Lackadaisy, physically, even. That was a mistake on his part because when Viktor had the chance, he was surely going to have, at the least, a long arduous conversation with him. Maybe bust his spectacles too, but he’d just have to wait and see how things turned out. In the meantime, he waited for his bullet holes to close up, and put up with Ivy’s genuine, but somewhat bothersome help. Viktor was going to show Mordecai what was what.


	8. Telephone

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asa deals with the aftermath of his failed raid of Mitzi's establishment. Mitzi calls in and puts in her own two cents. The Savoys seem to be a bit dubious. No one's quite on stable footing.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Yo. This week's been surprisingly busy for me. Only got back in town yesterday, and had dental work done the day of the majority of this writing. Still in pain, as it were, but I'm managing alright. This chapter's short, sadly, but I wasn't able to work as much into this section as I wanted to, so it remains what it is. Also, I've reinforced my opinion on the Savoys: I don't like writing their dialogue all that much. I'm not too good with the slang and the contractions and the unique pronunciations. I've done my best here, but feel free to note on it; I could use all the help I could get on them, especially in the future. And I managed to keep within my pattern of updates! Still getting one out about once a week. It's great. Anyway, hope you enjoy this little blurb of a chapter.

There was a knock at the door to Asa’s office, where he was busy pouring over reports and documents on his desk. He shuffled them back into a folder before closing and setting it aside. “Come on in,” he called out, looking up now. The door opened up and the Savoys walked in. Asa grabbed the cigar out of his mouth with his thumb and index finger as they closed the door behind them. “Where the hell have you two been? I told you to come back to me when you were _done._ It’s been a whole damn morning already.”

“We bin busy,” Nico said, leaning against the wall.

“Busy with what?” Asa paused as he quickly glanced between the two, “And where’s Heller?”

“Oh, he’s, uh—”

“What happened? Did you put Mitzi out?”

“We shot tings, see? Mais, we got chased out,” Serafine explained.

“Chased out? By who?”

“Some couple. Dey got guns.”

Asa put the cigar back in his mouth. “So do you.”

“We had a feelin’ dat we oughta leave. Was dangerous,” Nico elaborated.

“Fat chance. You two have had no shortage of zeal when it’s come to these sorts of things; you’re lying.”

“Nah, was really—” The phone rang as Nico spoke.

“Ah. Whaddya bet it’s Mitzi boastin’ about how not even my own agents could take her out?” He grabbed the earpiece and held it up to his ear. “Hello.”

“You thought you could snuff me out, Asa?” Mitzi asked.

“Oh, Mitzi, what a pleasure.” He glared at the Savoys as he leaned back in his seat some.

“Doubtful. I know that what happened in my place of business last night was _your_ doing, Asa.”

“I’ve got no idea what you’re talking about, doll. I’ve been working out of my own place of business the whole night, keepin’ busy. Certainly too busy to waste time bothering _you._ ”

“I know full well that—”

“Mitzi, we both know there are better places to talk about this than on the phone.” Nico pushed himself off of the wall with his elbow and started heading towards the door. He held up his finger and sat straight again, looking at him with an unhappy glance.

“...I have Mordecai.”

“You… what d’ya mean you _have_ Mordecai?” He furrowed his brow some, both concerned and confused.

“I mean I _have_ him. He’s locked up in that storeroom you sent him to clean out right now.”

“...Give me a moment, if you would be so kind.”

“Of course.” There was a distinct smirk in her voice.

Asa covered the mouthpiece with his hand. “What the hell happened? Why’s Mordecai been taken hostage? And with the _last_ people I’d expect?”

“Wasn’ our fault,” Nico declared.

“What on Earth do you mean ‘not your’— I’m getting distracted; I’ll deal with you two after this call.” He uncovered the mouthpiece and spoke again, “Thanks, sweetheart.”

“Of course,” Mitzi audibly smiled.

“So, Mordecai.”

“Mordecai.”

“What’re you gonna do with him?”

“Oh, I don’t know. Have him arrested. Shot, perhaps.” Mitzi sighed, sounding bored.

“Hah, always loved your sense of humor, darling. Such a comic.” He looked subtly nervous.

“Yes, well. I suppose it’s up to you what’s done with him.”

“Such as…?”

“Well, ceasing your nighttime raids is a good first step.”

“I’m not gonna go against my best interests just for some scrawny misfit, Mitzi. Keep him, if that’s what you want so bad.” He mashed the end of his cigar into an ashtray, the ash on the end of it falling off.

“Well, I’d be glad to keep him for as long as it takes. We’ll keep him there in the storeroom, see how scrawny he gets. I’m just trying to help _you;_ he does us no good just locked up in a closet. Surely you’d appreciate him back.”

“An interesting strategy, Mitzi, trying to intimidate me. It’s adorable, really. But we don’t need him. Go ahead, starve him. He hasn’t done us anything useful yet.”

“Except rob our storeroom, raid us, provide insider knowledge… Of course he’s useful to you, Asa, you’re just bluffing.” She paused. “I have the upper hand here, Sweet, no need to pretend you don’t need him.”

“And you have no need to pretend you’ll kill him and lose that supposed upper hand, May.”

“Oh, I’d be plenty happy to do so, if it means weakening you, Asa. We can pretend this is some sort of friendly rivalry, but you’ve worked it into a blood feud, and so I’ll play along. See how much blood we can spill.”

“No remorse for a former employee? Friend?” Asa chortled, “Maybe this new business life _has_ gotten to you.”

“And maybe the hubris of feeling on top has gotten to _you,_ Asa. All it takes is a few wrong steps for it to fall apart. Believe me, I’ve felt it.”

“Precisely true, Mitzi. That’s why I feel you should—”

“Don’t try to change the subject here. I have Mordecai. I’ll let him perish if that’s what it takes. What do you want to do about it?”

Asa exhaled. “Nothing. Have him. Indoctrinate him, if you can. I've no shortage of willing workers, and nothing you say can scare me into submission here, Mitzi. I’m done with your hostage haggling and such, Mitzi. Instead, let’s talk about how your whole ancient empire is on the verge of total and complete collapse.”

“You can say these things as much as you want, it doesn’t make them true, as it were. Things are going fine here. And we’ve just recently gotten some help from a faithful source.”

“Would love to see what that does for you, darling. But it’s hard to believe that everything’s all peachy with you, given that your attitude at our lunch the other day seemed a bit downtrodden and plenty hopeless. But I guess this supposed ‘upper hand’ of yours is enough to feel that you’re doing fine, huh?”

“I _am_ doing fine. And you’ll see that when the time comes, Asa.”

“Oh! S’that a threat, sweetheart?”

“Perhaps it was. You’ll see in time, won’t you?”

“I suppose we will. See ya then, doll.”

“Farewell.”

Asa hung the earpiece back up on the hook, ending the call. He sat still for a moment and then sighed. “That was absolutely too much to have divulged on the phone. Could come back to bite me.” He pinched the bridge of his nose. “So, you two.” He looked up. “What’s your excuse for this?”

“Already ‘splained ourselves,” Nico said.

“That’s a load of hooey, Nico. What _actually_ happened? Why’d the two of you fail to do what you were told to do and leave Mordecai in the dust? You left him so poorly off that he managed to get kidnapped by _Mitzi?_ ”

“We did nuthin’ to him. He jus’ a sorry lil’ bébé,” Serafine lamented.

“Okay, whatever— why’d you leave him high and dry?”

“Wasn’ safe dere,” Nico reiterated.

“Okay, so neither of you really wanna tell me, then. Fine. That’s fine. Keep your secrets, I don’t need to know; can I _at all_ trust you to finish the job in time?”

“We’ll get ‘em if we hit ‘em again.”

Asa sighed. “Okay, if you, when the time is right, carry out the rest of that job, then I can conveniently forget that you went against my orders and completely and utterly failed, and we can each go our own ways without consequence. Okay?” He took a puff from the cigar.

“Souns good.”

“Splendid. Now get out of my office and get yourselves together lest I reprimand the hell out of you two.” Nico gave a thumbs up before the two exited the office, closing the door behind them. Asa relaxed in his seat, the cigar between his fingers. What a shitshow that was.

Mitzi sighed. Her breathing was a tad labored and irregular. That was more than she’d bargained for when she dialed Asa. And she didn’t quite get what she wanted. But, at the very least, she could tell that she’d gotten to him some. She heard him yelling at those in his office, and she’d heard those subtle tones in his voice that let her know she’d succeeded some. It was a good first step, she supposed. Of course, a lot of it was stretching the truth, some of it straight up lies, but she had to do what she had to do, and this she had to do. Mitzi sat back up, having leaned back a tad. Now wasn’t the time for doubt or regret; she had more phone calls to make if she was to salvage all of this.


	9. Defectors

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky seems to have put trust in Mordecai. Mordecai feels it's misplaced. A now familiar face raises concern, and Ivy passes on Viktor's message.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Okay, so I might be uploading this chapter a little early for my pattern, but I finished this chapter pretty quickly and wanna upload it. This chapter's a pretty good length and furthers a lot of things in one chapter. I also didn't intend to split this chapter between two, but that just happens sometimes, I guess. It does set up the next chapter up really well though. I've started on it already. It's a chapter I've been wanting to do since chapter five, I think. But ignoring talk about the next chapter, this one's got some stuff to it. But, like usual, feel free to critique me if I mess some stuff up. Also, with this chapter, this is now my longest story, and in a fraction of the chapters. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the update!

There was a knock at the door. Mordecai’s eyes shot open as he was suddenly woken up. “One moment,” he mumbled as he scanned the ground with his hands, eventually coming upon his glasses, which he donned. He blinked the bleariness out of his eyes. He stood up and dusted himself and walked over towards the door before suddenly realizing he was locked in, not vice versa, and couldn’t open the door. “Yes?”

“It’s Rocky!” Rocky beamed from behind the door, his enthusiasm certainly not getting muffled by the door.

“Well, hello again. What do you want?” Mordecai looked over towards the light switch, debating internally whether to turn it on and blind himself or keep it off and stay in the dark.

“You said yesterday that you wanted time to bathe, right?”

Mordecai’s ears perked up. That was certainly both true and important to him. “Yes. And?”

“Well, you can go ahead and do that now.”

“And where might that be?”

“Upstairs, in Miss M.’s. You should be able to shower and such there.”

“...And she _allowed_ such a thing? Given Mitzi’s present attitude towards me, I find that quite hard to believe.”

“No, she didn’t really. She’s, uh, not here right now. But I’m sure she wouldn’t mind… not hearing anything about it. Besides, it’s not gonna hurt anyone.”

“Interesting. A stark change of stance from you compared to yesterday.”

“Well, I don’t think it’s that big of a deal; what’re you gonna do from the bathtub? Bankrupt us by raising the water bill?” Rocky paused. “Oh, maybe you could do that. Maybe I should—”

“I won’t do such a thing. I simply want to clean myself; nothing nefarious.” This seemed to be the only opportunity to bathe presented to him, and he didn’t want to lose it now due to paranoia.

“Okay. Don’t do something that changes my mind about this, Mordecai. I’d get in plenty of trouble if you do something like that, and I don’t wanna deal with something like that happening here.”

“You have my word. Bathe, and nothing more.”

“Alright.” Rocky began to unlock the door as evidenced by the clunks of the mechanisms. “Oh, by the way, I got those freshly laundered clothes.”

“Oh, good.”

A moment passed, and then the door was opened. Mordecai’s eyes barely had to adjust to the dimly lit corridor. Within it was Rocky, standing right in front of him, and Freckle, off to the side, the pistol from yesterday in his hands. “Have you got everything you need?” Rocky smirked.

Mordecai glanced behind him before suddenly realizing that of course he did. Disregarding his hat, everything he had with him here was on his person now. Well, and that gun, but that didn’t matter too much now. “Yes.”

“Alright then, we’re off.” Rocky started down the tunnel. “Freckle, same marshalling as yesterday.”

The three headed a different direction than they had yesterday, going almost the exact opposite direction as they walked through the tunnels.

“...Why are we going in _this_ direction?”

“Ivy’s managing the café up there, and it was pretty busy last I checked, and we can’t be revealing secret passages and whatnot to the patrons. Also, I didn’t close the garage door when I came down earlier, so I thought I’d swing by and close it.”

“I see.”

They climbed up the steps that lead into the garage, Rocky holding his hand above his head to push the trapdoor open. He held it open as the three stepped into the garage before letting go, it dropping back down with a slam.

“Uh, Rocky?” Freckle said meekly.

“Yes?” Rocky turned towards Freckle, who was to his right.

Freckle sheepishly pointed towards the other side of the garage, where the door was open. Rocky turned his head to his left and saw someone standing inside the garage, having taken a few steps into it. Their ears had perked, which Freckle noticed was due to the trapdoor’s noise.

Rocky began walking towards them. “What’re you doing in here?” A few steps towards him, his eyes adjusted and he recognized who it was: Dominic, from yesterday.

“Oh, excuse me. I saw that you’d left the door open here, and, well, it looked rather empty in here a moment ago. I was wondering if something had happened.”

“Oh, uh, okay.” He was standing over the crates Freckle and Zib had offloaded the other day, all of which were still unopened. Rocky continued to take the last few steps towards Dominic that remained between the two, slower now, however.

“Hey, don’t I know you?”

“Uh, I don’t think tha—”

He snapped his fingers. “Rocky. You were cleaning out the café yesterday.”

“Oh. Yep, that was me. Hah, how could I have forgotten about that?” Rocky looked subtly over his shoulder to see if Freckle was holding the gun so that the others could see it. Fortunately, he’d pocketed it already.

“Well, we all forget things sometimes, don’t we?”

“Too true.” Rocky smiled, feeling awkward and as if this was all both suspicious and precarious.

“Well. I see that everything’s alright around here, then, so I’ll just lead myself out.”

“Oh, okay.”

“Again, sorry for intruding. And I already ate at the café, but I hope to see you there if I swing by again some other day, okay?” He began to walk out of the garage.

“Of course. Take care now!” Rocky waved, smiling. As soon as he was out of view and away Rocky immediately stopped smiling. “That guy creeps me out. What was he doing?”

“He was looking at the crates me and Zib unloaded before you closed that hatch,” Freckle noted.

“Hmm. I don’t know about him. Why do you think he keeps coming around here?” Freckle shrugged. “Exactly.” Rocky glanced around the garage, checking to see if there was anything else amiss. “Well, let’s keep going, then.” Freckle pulled the gun out of pocket, leading Mordecai with a hand on his shoulder; now that they were about to leave the building, giving Mordecai a much easier escape possibility, he had to be extra careful about making sure that he didn’t. Rocky had told him to do that earlier— he’d been clear about it and how it was important in making sure that Rocky was able to keep his job at the speakeasy. Freckle obliged.

The three left the garage, stopping just outside of it so that Rocky could close the garage door. Once he did, the three being wary of Dominic’s possible lingering, they began to head towards the café and, more importantly, Mitzi’s abode.

They rounded the corner and passed the window of the café. Freckle tapped Rocky on the shoulder, getting his attention. Rocky turned. “Et maintenant?”

“Uh…” Freckle pointed towards the window of the café, where inside Ivy was waving down the three, clearly trying to get their attention.

“Oh. Well, let’s pay her a visit then.” Rocky led the others into the café and towards the counter.

The three sat down at some empty stools. Freckle had the gun in his pocket now but still had a firm grasp on it. His other hand was still on Mordecai’s shoulder, who was starting to get annoyed by it. “Hey Freckle!” Ivy smiled.

“Hi,” Freckle replied.

“What’re you doing with your hand on him?” Ivy asked, pointing at Mordecai while leaning on the counter with her elbow.

“It’s, uh, a precaution.”

“Oh, uh, sure.” Ivy looked subtly confused. “Anway, other than getting a chance to see you, Freckle, _you’re_ the person I’m supposed to talk to.” She signalled Mordecai again with a slight head nod.

“Are you going to berate me on Viktor’s behalf again?” Mordecai asked.

“No, but it does _involve_ him.” She stood up straight and began searching her pockets. Mordecai looked puzzled.

Ivy stopped rummaging through her pockets and pulled out the pair of broken glasses Viktor had given her the day before. She held them out to Mordecai, who grabbed them. “Uh, Viktor wanted me to give these to you, whatever for.”

Mordecai turned the glasses in his hand, studying them. They were very familiar. He knew exactly what these were from; they were his, back before his unceremonious departure. Of course, the frame wasn’t so bent and the lenses weren’t so broken and missing last time he’d seen them. It was just surprising that Viktor still had them. Wait, Viktor had them and wanted this girl to give them to him. “Viktor wanted you to _give_ these to me?”

“Uh, yeah. Why?”

“So that would mean that Viktor knows that I’m here? In your… residence?”

“Yeah, I told him when I went to go see him yesterday.”

Mordecai stared into the middle distance for a moment before putting the glasses away in his pocket. “Well, I certainly hope he doesn’t end up stopping by for a visit.” Mordecai cleared his throat. “Well, thank you, little girl.”

“Of course. And it’s Ivy. You should remember that for next time I yell at you about Viktor.”

“Noted.”

“Oh, by the way, Ivy,” Rocky began, Ivy glancing over at him, “did someone named Dominic come in here for breakfast or lunch or whatever earlier today?”

“Uh, I don’t think so.”

“Kinda older, grey fur, dressed pretty nicely, creepy?”

“Doesn’t ring a bell.”

“Hmm, alright. Well, thanks anyway.” So most likely, Dominic didn’t actually stop in for any food, seeing as Ivy had been in the café the whole morning. Very suspicious. “And if you’ll excuse us, there’s some business to be attended to upstairs.”

“Oh, well, go ahead. I’ll be down here if you need me, serving eggs and toast and all that.”

Someone sitting a bit down the length of the counter leaned over and waved down Ivy. “Do you perchance have some salt?” It was a rather old man sitting over some scrambled eggs and toast.

“Yeah, here you go.” Ivy handed the man a salt shaker. She turned back to the boys. “Living the life, as you can see.”

“Clearly.” Rocky stood up, prompting the others to do the same. He headed towards the door. “Farewell then.”

“See ya.” Ivy paused. “Oh, and stop by again later today if you can, Freckle.”

Freckle nodded before the three exited the café. They then entered Mitzi’s and climbed up the steps to her abode. Freckle let go of Mordecai’s shoulder and pulled the gun from his pocket. Mordecai didn’t seem to have any chance to run away, it seemed. Although, he’d mostly forgotten about doing that, as it were. Maybe all this appeasement on behalf of Mitzi and her agents was working and was distracting him from the prospect of escape. Or perhaps he was losing his edge. Mordecai couldn’t quite tell right now.

Rocky led Mordecai to the bathroom, Freckle following behind. “Me and Freckle are gonna sit over here.” He gestured towards some seating relatively near the bathroom, “I don't think I need to stand over you like before; just don't try to escape, okay?”

“Of course,” Mordecai answered dryly.

“Oh, and the clothes should be in there already— I went ahead and set them in there earlier.”

“Thank you.”

“Alright then, go ahead, have fun.” Rocky half-waved as the two began to walk towards the aforementioned seating.

Mordecai passed through the doorway into the bathroom, closing the door behind him. He'd been in here before, of course, back when he worked here. It was a humble little bathroom, larger than the one downstairs, of course, as it had to accommodate the bathtub. Besides, with the Mays’ wealth and style back when it was built, they wouldn't have settled for anything _too_ commonplace. But it was a strangely unsettling, even disconcerting feeling, being here, for some reason.

Draped on the basin of the sink were the clothes that Rocky had mentioned. They looked clean and were folded surprisingly neatly, given Mordecai's current view of Rocky and his hygiene. It looked like tweed— herringbone. But Mordecai would judge the fashion and such of it after he took his shower; right now it didn't quite matter. He reached for the faucet handles and turned the water on, which began to spill into the tub. Once the water was going he began to disrobe, folding the clothes he’d taken off and setting it neatly aside. Once finished, he’d removed his glasses and set them upon the pile.

Pulling the curtain closed and letting the warm water spray from the shower head onto him, he realized that this was exactly what he needed. He no longer needed to wear his now uncomfortable and dirtied suit and could revel in some well-appreciated warmth that hadn’t been present in the somewhat cold caves he’d been sleeping in. He reached over and grabbed a bar of soap which he wet with the stream. He began to meticulously scrub himself down with it.

So, Mordecai was still in captivity. Honestly, he’d expected that he’d have formulated some sort of escape plan by now, but he was still left drawing a blank. Whenever he’d been led out of the confines of the storeroom, Freckle was always there, gun in hand. Sure, he wasn’t a formidable-looking foe, but he had lost his gun and his companions and was in the middle of his enemy’s territory, so even that little kid presented a real danger in his current state. And there was very little chance of trying to escape from the storeroom; it was built well, locked up well, and Mordecai had no particular means of dealing with that. So, even now, Mordecai would just have to stay where he was for now.

Viktor knew he was here now. That was a disconcerting thought. Sure, he currently had faulty knees and a chest full of blood, but he was more dangerous than he looked at any given point. And he’d wanted to give Mordecai those glasses? What exactly did that mean? That at best could be potential… emotional manipulation? At worst it was a thinly veiled threat, but Mordecai, even having been with him for so long in the past, wasn’t able to draw conclusions on his very vague message. He just had to hope that Viktor didn’t try to explain it in person.

And Rocky. For some reason, it continued to stick out to Mordecai how he’d put himself in possible risk just for Mordecai’s sake. Sure, Rocky was just letting him take a shower, but _Mordecai_ wouldn’t trust himself in Rocky’s shoes, so why did _he?_ Mordecai appreciated it, but it seemed like a needless risk Rocky took for him, especially as juxtaposed to his attitude yesterday. He emphasized several times that he didn’t wish to go against Mitzi’s orders, so why did he now try to rationalize just that? What was the purpose of that? It wasn’t quite admirable from either side’s perspective, defecting from his superiors, yet Mordecai seemed to hold him in high regards for it, and it wasn’t quite clear why. Why did he do it and why was it so fascinating? What was it about Rocky that continued to stick out to him? Mordecai would mull over it some more.


	10. Kneecapping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor has a chat with a close associate and partner. Things don't quite go how either planned and Viktor ends up injured.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Here we go. Chapter ten. Can you believe it? Anyway, this chapter gave me a bit of trouble, but I wrangled it together, and I'm pretty happy with it. I managed to get a commendable length and managed to fix the pacing that I'd been having trouble with (at least, I hope). It also means, if I did math right, that each chapter is now an average of two thousand words, using the word and chapter count. That's a goal I've been trying to reach for a few chapters now, so I'm glad I got there. Regardless, this is a very interesting chapter in my opinion that I've been looking forward to for weeks now. Hope you enjoy it! (Oh, by the way, should I tag the relationship presented in this chapter, given that it's in the past? Any advice would be very useful!)

It was early morning. Sunbeams began to sneak into the bedroom with the sun having risen, even with the curtains drawn. The sounds of birds could be heard from outside the window. Together, they stirred Viktor awake. He slowly shifted on the bed, blearily turning over to his side. He inhaled slowly, letting it out with a sigh. Viktor reached over, searching with his hand for a moment, and to his surprise, he found no one there. He rubbed the sleep out of his good eye and sat up, glancing across the room. It was empty. He groaned and pulled his legs over the edge of the bed. He stretched before sitting there for a moment. Then, Viktor shuffled out of the bedroom with a yawn.

Viktor lumbered down the hall, wanting a good cup of coffee. Or perhaps a well-prepared breakfast. He scratched the back of his neck as he walked, careful to lift his feet over the one nail that wasn’t completely hammered in. And it was mere moments before he found who he was looking for. Mordecai sat by the window, drinking tea and eating some toast. Mordecai noticed Viktor and finished taking his sip of tea, putting it back down on a saucer on the table under the window. He cleared his throat before speaking, “Good morning, Viktor.”

“Should haff expected you to get up so early. Ve haff the day off, yet you must stick to schedule like life depends on it,” Viktor said, continuing over towards Mordecai. He seated himself on another chair on the other side of the window.

“There's nothing wrong with sticking to a schedule.” He grabbed his plate from the table and took a bite of his toast, holding the plate beneath it.

“No reason to. Better to sleep in, at least today.”

“I enjoy being productive, even on these days off we get.”

“But ve don’t need to. Vaste of time.”

“We can just agree to disagree.” Viktor sighed breathily. Mordecai’s eyes narrowed a moment later. “Ugh, don't do that; your breath smells awful.”

“Just voke up, vhat do you vant from me?”

“Smell better.”

Viktor began to stand up. “Vell, if you haff nothing to say that m—”

“Actually, regarding work, there's something we need to talk about, Viktor.” Mordecai crossed his legs.

Viktor sat back down. “Ya?”

“Well,” Mordecai took a sip of his tea, readying himself for whatever would ensue, “since Atlas’s death, things have changed at work, clearly. Atlas often managed things surprisingly well. But now things are different; Atlas no longer manages things, naturally. And I have respect for Mitzi's effort so far, but—”

“Vhat do you mean vith that?”

“...And, I have respect for Mitzi's effort so far, but it's clear that it's not enough in place of Atlas. She's been trying her best, certainly, and it’s definitely commendable, but businesses all across the city have been taking advantage of Atlas's death, especially the Marigolds. And as a result, things are starting to fall apart. You surely must have noticed this, Viktor.”

“No.”

Mordecai sighed. “You haven't noticed the effects of everything that's been happening?”

“No.”

“The others’ departures? The irregularity in which we get our paychecks now? The rumors of bankruptcy which have been spreading about? Even just the look in Mitzi’s eyes when you talk to her? None of that?”

“No.”

“Well, regardless of whether you have or haven't noticed, it's true. We get paid at odd times, with a pattern that's been absolutely butchered from its original schedule. Many of our co-workers keep leaving left and right. Customers keep shifting over to the Maribel, causing profits to go down dramatically— I’ve seen it in the records, the employee payments, too. And when we get sent out for alcohol, we've been put in increasingly dangerous positions. Yet still—”

“Over-exaggerating, I think.”

“I’m doing anything of the sort. These things _are_ actually happening, Viktor, you might just have not noticed.”

“Not noticed cause it's not real.”

Mordecai adjusted his glasses, lowering his voice, which had been getting louder as the two argued. “Regardless, I believe it's time we do the same as some of the others and depart from Lackadaisy.” He spoke slowly and with impact.

“You vant to quit?” Viktor’s eyebrows raised as he leaned forward in his seat.

“Well, yes. Things are at the point where, in almost every way, staying with it isn't the smart move, so—”

“Vhere's loyalty? Just cause you think it's vorse, you quit?”

“It's a bit more than that, Viktor. This is a clear—”

“Business has up and downs. This is just down.”

“It’s more than just business or profit fluctuations; I’ve worked here almost as long as you have, and this is a clear down—”

“Just cause Atlas dies, you run off?”

“No, Viktor, it's not like that.”

“Vhat is it like?”

“I know Atlas has done a lot for you, Viktor, that much is obvious; he'd done a lot for me, too. I certainly don’t want to discredit him or be disrespectful, but this is an issue of our own well-beings and our own futures now. We need to keep ourselves from being backed into any sort of corner or from being killed, especially as we keep taking more of the brunt of the work that needs to be done. Not to mention, it would be better to let the business cease operations rather than slowly fade away. And staying would accomplish the latter, simply delaying the inevitable.”

“...Is this all some joke?”

“No, Viktor, this all completely genuine. It’s my informed opinion, looking at the numbers and the overall trends, that we ought to leave. And ignoring both the money and safety arguments for leaving—”

“You are se—”

“ _Damn it_ , Viktor, let me finish one thought.” Mordecai rubbed his forehead for a moment. “Ignoring those, work’s been causing stress on both of us. Just now, you could tell, couldn’t you?”

“That’s just you. Moody.”

“It’s not— See? We both have been stressed from work, the assignments that have been nearly resulting in our deaths, the issues we had last week paying for water because of that paycheck that came late, the less time we’ve been able to spend together; it’s been putting a strain on us and our relationship. I don’t want there to be some sort of problem with us just because work has been taxing.”

“You could stay in bed vith me in mornings. Not leave to drink tea and eat toast.”

“That’s not remotely the point. There have been issues beyond me _waking up early._ Remember that argument we had the other day? That happened after we got home from work, and it was about where the _keys_ were, yet it still managed to cause you to nearly yell yourself hoarse.”

“That’s cause you left keys behind.”

“It’s— You’re really bringing this back up? Are you not over it?”

“I am. You brought it up again.”

Mordecai paused, adjusting his glasses. His hands were a little shaky, he noticed, as he pushed the frames back up the bridge of his nose. “We’re done with that. The point of this is that work has been made harder for us, and it’s been having a clear effect on us that could be resolved by leaving work.”

“Still don’t see how that solves anything.”

“I’ve just explained. It can clearly benefit us by—”

“Okay. Fine. Vhat after that?”

“Well, we can find work somewhere else. There are plenty of other shady operations in St. Louis for us to join in on.”

“Marigolds?”

“I’ve considered it, yes. If you feel the same about it as I do, then we can—”

“You vant to vork for Marigolds? Leave Lackadaisy for Marigolds?”

“It’s a possibility for us after we leave.” Mordecai narrowed his gaze on Viktor. “Which you will be doing, right?”

“No.”

“No? But Viktor, there’s no shortage of reason how—”

“No. Von’t do it.”

Mordecai sighed. He’d been readying himself the whole morning for this _exact_ verdict, yet it still struck him by surprise. It was an absolutely disappointing development, which would easily ruin Mordecai’s plans and his hopes. Viktor wasn’t as easy to sway as Mordecai had wanted or hoped it would be. He was just like that. Viktor had always been rather stubborn and grouchy. And he’d almost certainly developed some sort of hubris or complex after all of the times that Viktor had emerged on top in things. He definitely had a bit of a firm grasp on Mordecai at times, and it wasn’t hard to argue that it had gone to his head.

“Well, then. That’s a shame to hear.”

“So none of that then.”

“Not quite.” Viktor cocked his head to the side. “I’ve already made up my mind and have made my arrangements; I’m going to be leaving today.”

“Vhat do you mean? You just going to leave?”

“Yes, I’m afraid. I was truly hoping that you’d be swayed to my side, but I suppose you’re stuck in your position. That’s fine, I suppose, but I’m going to keep on with my plans. At this time tomorrow, I will no longer be working for Mitzi.”

“Vell, tomorrow I still vork there.”

“I know. And I won’t be.”

“...You’re too sudden about this.”

“I’ve been planning this out for a month, Viktor. This isn’t sudden at all. It’s all rather calculated, really.”

“First time I hear about it, today.”

“That’s just because I’ve been waiting for a good time, for my plans to come together, for confirmation that I was right. Not to mention, I’ve been mentioning this for a couple weeks now.”

“No, you haven’t.”

“I have, Viktor. I’ve been mentioning how things have been going downhill for the business for at least a week or two now. I’ve been asking about getting other jobs in the future.”

“That’s not ‘mentioning’. That’s nothing.”

“Well, I didn’t want to be too brash about it before I was sure about it. And if I’d mentioned it before, you would have acted like you are now: insufferable and indistinctly angry.”

“You’re not sure now!”

“I _am_ sure about it! And I’ve made my mind up about it, so no amount of shouting at me will solve that.

“You are doing this too fast. Need to think about it.”

“I have thought. I’ve thought plenty more than you have about this issue— you don’t even seem to notice any of the problems that have arisen.”

“Vell, there von’t be Marigolds in this place.” Viktor gestured broadly at the space around him, “You should think about it more. Not just yourself.”

“I already had your input, and you seem entirely dead set on being an opponent to everything I say, so I think all of the thinking about it has been done by now.”

“Then vhat? You leave vork, join Marigolds?”

“Perhaps.”

“Vell, then you _should_ think more, cause I von’t have Marigolds here.”

“Fine then. If that’s how you want it to be, then I can leave; I’m already all set to do so.” Mordecai stood up from his chair.

“Mordecai,” Viktor stood up suddenly, “stop.”

“I already made up my mind, and it would seem that you have, too. That’s fine then. I’ll be on my way, out of your Marigold-free space, Viktor.”

“Hold on.” Viktor grabbed Mordecai by the shoulders.

Mordecai’s eyes suddenly felt like they would bulge out of his head, and he reached into his coat and pulled out his pistol, pushing Viktor away with the same motion. He held it in front of him, like he was trying to block something. “Don’t grab me, Viktor. I _will_ shoot you. I’ll shoot you in the leg, I swear. I don’t want it to come to that, but you can’t stop me from doing what I want to do here.”

Viktor crossed his arms, continuing to stand where he was before Mordecai pulled out a gun. “Not afraid of you, little one. Ve can do this without guns.”

“Indeed. And that involves you moving out of the way so that I can leave and be on my way.”

“Can’t.”

“Yes, you can.” Mordecai clenched his teeth together. This was as infuriating as it was devastating and terrifying.

“Von’t. You need to think about this.”

“Goddamnit, Viktor, I’ve thought _enough,_ let me past.”

Mordecai took a step towards the door. Viktor slammed his hand down on Mordecai’s shoulder as he began to move past him. “You—”

Mordecai immediately swung around and, after hastily aiming, shot Viktor in his left leg, right in the knee. Mordecai’s pupils contracted to tiny dots in his eyes as he turned, completing his shot in less than a second. Viktor’s hand was thrown off from his shoulder before Viktor grunted from the pain, stumbling back a pace or two.

Viktor looked down, seeing the wound and the blood on his leg. He looked up, not looking particularly happy. He shifted the weight onto the still healthy leg as he scowled at Mordecai, full of rage.

“I gave you fair warning, Viktor. Now—”

Viktor screamed as sprinted forward, ducking down, ready to tackle Mordecai to the ground. “You rotten son of a—”

Mordecai fired again. He took a step back, quickly reacting to the danger at hand. The bullet left the chamber with a loud bang, landing in Viktor’s other leg. The pain and sudden damage of it had him no longer running right, and he fell to the ground, crashing into Mordecai’s legs. He fell to the ground, his glasses flying off of his face.

Mordecai quickly stood up, which couldn’t be said for Viktor, who was now bleeding from both legs. He glanced around the floor, unable to find his glasses, before hearing a crunch as Viktor shifted on the floor. He wasn’t going to get those back, then. Fine.

Viktor groaned as he bled out onto the floor, the pain of his now busted legs taking a toll on him of the likes Mordecai hadn't quite seen from him, in the years he’d worked with him. It was certainly unsettling to see. Not to mention, it was completely saddening; that was almost certainly the end of their relationship.

“I warned you Viktor. I said I would do it.”

“Choď do pekla!” Viktor leaned off the ground some, enough to see Mordecai and curse him. He let his head fall back to the ground and he continued to be unable to do anything about both the bleeding and the pain.

Mordecai noticed all of the blood as he looked down, only seeing a lot of blurry red. “You ought to call Quackenbush for that; you’re bleeding a lot here.”

Viktor only grunted and tried to grab Mordecai’s tea saucer and throw it at him, but failed. “Alright then, I’m off. Best of luck to you, Viktor,” Mordecai said with a tip of his hat. He opened the door and exited, leaving Viktor bleeding on the floor. He’d gotten what he was after, but without the agreement of Viktor. Not to mention, without any of his living space or relationship, either. It would basically be time to start anew.

That all could have gone better, then, he decided.


	11. Bad Things

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai wraps up his shower as Rocky and Freckle busy themselves conversing in the room over. Mordecai overhears as Freckle discusses something that Rocky doesn't quite want to discuss nor believe, yet he knows the truth of it. Mordecai takes a valuable lesson away from it.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugggghhh. I'm a little bit later in uploading this chapter than I wanted to be, but this chapter really put up a fight; it just didn't want to be written. Well, perhaps as a result of that, it's not quite as good as I would want it to be. Freckle isn't entirely in character, I would say, for example. And I'm going to remove the 'slow burn' tag, as it would seem that perhaps this isn't really slow burn in the overall context of the story, but if you have any sort of advice on it after reading the chapter, know that I'd be grateful to hear it— advice pertaining to that sort of thing is always appreciated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this slightly late chapter. It's fun, if not a tad awkward to read (at least I think). Enjoy!

Mordecai shut off the water. The stream quickly slowed to a steady drip. The last of the water sank into the drain as he reached over for a nearby towel. He began to dry himself with it, rubbing it into his wet fur. After burying his face into it, drying it off, he reached out and donned his glasses, which allowed him to see clearly once again. He continued to dry the rest of himself with the towel.

He’d recounted on that encounter that produced the broken glasses he’d received while in the shower. It wasn’t a very pleasant memory. And mulling over it didn’t quite give any clues as to why Viktor might have wanted to give those glasses back to him. Viktor knew he was here, and then he decided to just send this grim memento as his silent messenger? What could its meaning be? Mordecai certainly wasn’t going to ask, even if granted the chance.

Mordecai continued to believe it was a threat. How could it not be? The two’s last encounter was near cataclysmic, and Viktor’s opinion couldn’t have changed much in the time since. The glasses must be some sort of representation for Mordecai, such as, that was what Viktor was going to do to him. Or a reminder of Viktor’s blatant violence in retaliation to Mordecai’s actions back on that day. Maybe it was just a distraction, meant to purposely confuse Mordecai, making him ignorant to possible impending danger. Mordecai wasn’t even sure that _Viktor_ knew the reason why he did it.

Mordecai rubbed the towel into the outside of his arms, working to remove the water from himself. He stopped for a moment to clean off his glasses, which had fogged up from the steam still present in the bathroom. He’d probably end up having to do that a few more times before the steam had dissipated. Annoying.

“So then you’re okay with the whole ‘gangster’ thing? No problems, right?” Rocky asked, leaning his head in his hand.

“Yeah. I wouldn’t still be here if I wasn’t,” Freckle responded, sitting up straight in the nice seats of Mitzi’s tenement.

“Even with the whole ‘shooting people’ issue? Because you’re going to be doing more of that, I can almost guarantee it, cousin.”

“Yeah, I’ll, uh, do it if I need to.” Freckle lightly held up the pistol in his grasp, only lifting it a few inches out of his lap before letting his arm drop back down.

“That’s good to hear! And I wouldn’t want to work beside anyone else more than you, Freckle.” Rocky grinned.

“Sure.” Freckle paused, staring into the middle distance for a moment. “When’s the next time I’m supposed to do something like that?” Freckle focused back in the real world, turning to look at Rocky.

“Do something like what?”

“You know, shoot people and all that.” Freckle subtly fidgeted in his seat, giving away to Rocky briefly that Freckle wasn’t completely okay with the idea of that. Rocky wouldn’t say anything of it now, but he took notice.

“Ah. Well, I don’t know. I suppose it’s next time Miss M. needs us to.”

“Oh, alright.”

Mordecai glanced towards the bathroom wall at his side. Now that the water had stopped running and the room was silent, he could hear through the walls and hear the other two’s conversation. Granted, it was pretty heavily muffled, and he could only really make out Rocky’s words, given how loud he was, but, nonetheless. Mordecai listened in rather curiously.

“So, how are things with you and Ivy?” Rocky changed the subject after that subject had been talked over.

“Good. I guess. We spent a while talking yesterday morning.”

“Ah, romance. You and your sweetheart, spending all hours of the day lovingly chatting with each other. How ardent of you, Freckle.”

“Uh, yeah, sure.” Freckle often just dealt with the things Rocky said, and it was never more true than when Rocky was talking about Freckle and romance, the times when he did.

“It’s almost like Romeo and Juliet, you two. Your mother would never approve, yet love keeps you two together. It’s poetic. Beautiful. I applaud your inspirational story.”

“Sure. I guess it’s like that.”

The two paused for a minute, both in thought. “So, what’s, uh, Mordecai’s story?” Freckle wondered, clearing his throat. He still wasn’t too sure who Mordecai really was and why they were watching over him.

“Well, he used to work here, not too long ago, really. But, uh, he quit, for whatever reasons. He shot Viktor’s knees before he left, which wasn’t too popular. And now he works for the Marigolds, which are basically Lackadaisy’s main business rival, as it were. So, he’s been working against us, and uh, well now he’s here.” Rocky scratched the back of his head. “Does that explain it?”

“Not really.”

“He’s done some bad things before. And he robbed us of our guns and tried to destroy the whole business just the other night. That was when he became a, um, prisoner of war.”

“‘Bad things’? Like what?”

“Uh, well, I don’t know everything, but I’ve heard that he’s killed some people, raided some places. He’s, well, he’s pretty ruthless if rumors are to be believed.” Rocky rubbed the back of his neck.

Mordecai’s reputation continued to precede him, it would seem. Still, he was seen as ruthless and violent. That wasn’t even necessarily false, but it continued to be his defining feature, even among his former employer and their employees. Fine.

“So he’s bad? I mean, I’ve killed some people already.”

“Exactly. I don’t think he’s really a bad person, and neither are you, Freckle. But he’s done some bad _things_ , you know?”

Well, from Mordecai’s perspective, that was rather high praise, especially compared to others’ opinion of him. Rocky was almost vouching for him, for whatever reason. That was… neat, would be how Mordecai could describe it.

“Sure.” Freckle nodded slightly. He turned to the side and coughed into his hand. Freckle looked back at Rocky. “What’s been going on between you two?”

Rocky cocked his head. “What d’ya mean?”

“Well, you were two were being… weirdly friendly to each other yesterday, even though he apparently did bad things. And you didn’t even bother asking for permission to have him bathe here today. It’s just strange.”

“That’s not ‘strange’, Freckle, I’m simply being hospitable; nothing wrong with that.”

“So you’re this nice to other people like him?” Freckle narrowed his eyes.

“Oh, well, uh, yeah! I’m friendly, cousin— _surely_ you’ve noticed that by now.”

“You go into the bathroom with people you're nice to?”

“That’s—” Rocky paused, “that’s a different situation. That was just to follow what Miss M. said to do.”

“But you’re not doing that now,” Freckle said. Mordecai stopped drying himself with the towel. That’s why it all stuck out to him so much; it didn’t make sense for Rocky to be doing these things unless he had some sort of alternative motive. It was almost as if he had some sort of… No, Mordecai wouldn’t be going down that road. He had had enough of Lackadaisy affairs, and there was no need to have his thoughts be of his captor. He’d had plenty of this sort of thing, and it would seem he was done with it. So he would be, simple as that. Although, it was good to know that he could potentially use such a thing to his advantage in trying to escape. And that was all it could be worth.

“You… That’s not, uh… exactly what—” he stumbled through his words, unable to find the right thing to say in response to that.

“It doesn't matter that much. I was just wondering.” Freckle turned away for a second, seemingly hiding his face from Rocky. “I just think that if he’s done these bad things, you should be careful.”

“Ah, well, of course I’ll be careful, Freckle. I’m plenty careful.” Rocky began smiling, although somewhat falteringly.

“That’s a lie.”

“It most certainly isn’t. I’m careful enough to handle Mordecai’s bad things.”

Freckle furrowed his brow as he looked at Rocky with a disconcerting glare. “What, uh… No, you’re not that careful. You’ve already managed to let him flirt with you.”

Rocky’s ears shot up as he noticeably sat up in his seat. “What?”

“It’s obvious that’s what was happening. I saw the look you had on coming out of that bathroom yesterday.”

“That wasn’t anything like that, I assure you.”

“Sure. Just be careful. I know that you’re usually not.”

Mordecai carefully folded the towel and put it back where it was as it were before he used it. The only difference was that it was now wetter. He reached over and began donning the clothes that had been prepared by Rocky. They were a surprisingly good fit, seeming nearly as if they were from his own wardrobe. And they looked rather good on Mordecai. The tweed was a tad scratchy, but that was to be expected, really. It was a plenty suitable replacement for his now dirty suit he’d been wearing.

So, from what he’d been hearing through the walls, it seemed Rocky was a bit too awkward and Freckle was a bit too precise in his statements, such that it was clear that Rocky had certain specific feelings regarding Mordecai. That was interesting. Play his cards right, and he might just be able to convince Rocky to simply have him be let go or something of that nature. He had an emotional into Rocky’s psyche. Useful.

Mordecai finished dressing himself. He grabbed the broken glasses from the pocket of his dirty suit and relocated them to the pockets of his new outfit. He glanced at himself in the mirror, taking just a moment to look over himself. Indeed, he looked rather nice. Rocky at least had had the logic to pick something of the right size and style for him. Good. Mordecai took the dirty clothes and held them under his arm as he opened the door to the bathroom and exited. He felt refreshed and free from the dirt and germs he’d almost certainly accumulated from the storeroom over the time he’d been there.

He walked over towards the area where the two cousins had said that they would be, which, of course, was also the same general direction that he’d heard their voices coming from. He noticed the photographs and other decorations of the home as he walked through it. He remembered a lot of it, evidently.

Mordecai walked into the sight of Freckle and Rocky, who both turned to look at him, stopping near dead in their conversation. “...Well?” Mordecai asked in response to their sudden silence and clear staring. It was somewhat unexpected, but given their conversation he’d overheard earlier, that shouldn’t have been true.

“Well, you, uh, you look good in that suit,” Rocky responded, stumbling through his words slightly. It was clear that he was a bit flustered.

“Not exactly what I’d meant.”

Freckle snickered, getting a wayward glance from Rocky, who surely was blushing now. Having his emotional situation laid out before him by his cousin had nearly undone him. “Well,” Rocky cleared his throat, “shall we be making our way back downstairs?”

“I don’t see why not.”

“Alright then.” Rocky quickly made his way past Mordecai and began leading the other two towards the exit and out through it. He seemed a little hurried for whatever reason.

Mordecai obliged as Freckle prodded him with the barrel of the pistol. “Oh, and thank you for the shower; it was well appreciated.”

“Oh! Uh, well, no problem! It was the least I could do.” He walked with a strange sort of posture.

Mordecai felt the barrel of the pistol prod him in the back again and he looked over his shoulder towards Freckle. “Yes?” Mordecai muttered.

“I know what you’re trying to do. Be careful,” Freckle warned.

“Of course.” Mordecai turned back, beginning down the stairs. He most likely wouldn’t be following the little one’s advice.

Mordecai was led back through the garage, which was free of bystanders now, and down into the storeroom. He was locked back in and Freckle departed, making himself busy in the café with Ivy. Mordecai set his clothes neatly on the floor, being careful so as to avoid puddles or particularly dirty spots. And Rocky remained, conversing with Mordecai. And to him, it was entirely obvious and certain now that what he’d thought was true. Rocky had developed feelings for Mordecai, however subtle or overt they might be. And that could be an amazingly useful tool to him.


	12. Businessman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mitzi has an arranged meeting with Sedgewick. The two have their conversations and negotiations. Rocky is given an offer by Mitzi after she becomes suspicious, perhaps even paranoid.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Well, this certainly is late, this chapter. My bad. I'm really going to try to get back on track with these next few chapters, which I really hope will lend themselves to me writing them some more. This chapter and the last have been a tad bit slow, but they've been setting some stuff up, so hopefully, once we get to some of those things it can be done faster. So other than that, my only note is that 'roadster' is a type of car, like a design. No idea if that's common knowledge or not, but I didn't know that until I looked it up, so I'll just put that here just in case. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

Wick sat at his desk, busy filling out paperwork that he hadn’t finished the day prior. That was partly due to the alcohol, partly due to the long conversation he’d had with Mitzi when he was supposed to be busying himself with his work. Speaking of which, he glanced toward the window, seeing a car pull up into the driveway. He looked at the clock; she was a tad earlier than he’d expected, but that was okay. At least he was dressed and more or less ready. He stood up and began towards the front door.

Mitzi exited the car and climbed up the few steps on the way to Wick’s house. As she neared the top step, the door was pulled open by Wick. He leaned against the doorway slightly. “A bit early, aren’t you?”

“A bit. That’s not a problem is it?” Mitzi wondered, stopping on the top step, in front of the doorway.

“No, not at all.” Wick stepped aside. “Come on in for a moment.”

“Oh, thank you.” Mitzi slipped past Wick into the foyer. He shut the door with a shove as he stepped away from it.

“How are you, Mitzi?”

“Alright. You?”

“Doing fine, doing fine.”

“Good.”

“...Well,” Wick cleared his throat, “judging from your phone call yesterday, you didn’t ask for us to meet up just to catch up, right? You want to talk business. Am I correct in assuming that?”

Mitzi sighed. “Is it that obvious?”

“'Fraid so.”

“Well, yes, it’s business that I wanna talk about. I was hoping you'd humor me.”

“Sure, why not?” Wick glanced to the side. “How about a drive around in the roadster while we discuss? You know, get out in the sun, get out of the house?”

Mitzi pondered it for a moment. “...Yeah, that’d be nice, Wick.”

“Alright then, give me a moment and I’ll pull it around— you can wait here,” Wick smiled as he began towards the door again.

“Go ahead.” Wick left the building and closed the door behind him. Mitzi distracted herself with various decorations around the foyer.

Mitzi had arranged for this meeting with Sedgewick on the phone yesterday; it was just one of the many things she’d been doing on the telephone yesterday. She’d been rather vague in her motives for doing so, but it was for almost entirely business reasons— Mitzi would need a little bit of investment, especially in her current financial situation, to deal with the predicament Mordecai and his lackeys had caused. But, Mitzi had a plan, both for convincing Wick to make that investment and for using it to fix everything. Surely, Wick could be suaded by Mitzi.

A minute or two had passed by when Mitzi could hear the car make its way to the front of the house. She looked towards the front doors once Wick opened them, taking a step inside. Standing in the threshold, he said, “Well then, are you ready?”

“Of course.” Mitzi walked towards the door, turning and smiling at Wick as she passed him, which Wick reciprocated. As Mitzi began down the stairs, he began too, closing the door as he did. Wick opened the passenger side door for Mitzi before getting into the driver’s seat. He then started driving off of the property, onto the road.

“So,” Wick began, “you want to talk business?” He drove gingerly down the road, the speed being kept rather low.

“I do.” Mitzi cleared her throat. “Some… rivals of ours happened to break into our establishment the night before last.”

“Oh dear.”

“Yeah. They ruined some of the furniture, the lights, shot some of the drinks we still had left. It normally wouldn’t be that big of a deal, if it weren’t for our empty coffers right now.” The car slowed as it rounded a near corner

“I don’t quite want to get involved with your line of business— it sounds awful dangerous, even if—”

“No, honey, I don’t need you to get involved. I just need a small investment on your behalf.”

Wick hesitated, glancing towards Mitzi for a brief moment. “Eh, I don’t know about that, Mitzi; I’m still a businessman, and that businessman part of me isn’t so sure you can make a return on such an investment.”

“Just a small one, Wick. Besides, we recently brought on a new employee who I’m sure is goin’ to pull us up by the bootstraps.” Just a little white lie. Not that she didn’t believe Freckle had lots of potential, but she needed to exaggerate his potential in order to truly sell it to Wick.

“That just sounds like an additional expense.”

“He’s already proven himself to us— he dealt with the issue we had last time you visited us at the speakeasy.”

“Impressive, I, uh, guess. But that wasn’t  _ particularly  _ dealt with, I must say; you had one with some sort of horrible injury and you had to evacuate all of your guests.”

“Just trust me. He’s got some potential.”

“Erm, I don’t know. I don’t think that’s enough for me to jump on. I certainly wouldn’t want you to fail here, but I’m not sure that you can—”

Mitzi spoke. “We have a hostage from the guys who broke the night before last.”

“What?” Wick turned to face Mitzi, shocked. He swerved a tiny bit. “You have a  _ hostage? _ ”

“A rival, yes. He’s a pretty important part of their business, and we’ve got him as collateral. With him, we can really make an impact in this war we’ve been fighting.”

“Dear god, Mitzi. Things are much more, um, high stakes over there than I thought.” The car went down a bit of a hill, picking up some speed as it did.

“More high stakes than rocks, I suppose. But we have a good chance of making bank. All we need is a bit of investment from you, Wick.”

Wick sighed, considering Mitzi’s proposal as he continued to drive the car. “What might I get out of this, investing in your dangerous, dangerous business?”

“I’ve been working it out, and I can give you back double what you invest in, at most, a quarter of a year.”

“Double, huh? I’ve got to say, Mitzi, that’s certainly an enticing promise you make. It’s a lot to earn from such an investment. But double’s also a lot for you to  _ pay,  _ Mitzi. It seems like that’s just me  _ asking _ for you to break your promise here.”

“Believe me. It seems like a lot—”

“Because it is.”

“—but if things go as planned, it’ll be easy to pay it back, even at double.”

“And if things don’t go as planned?”

“Well, I suppose that we might not be able to, but that’s true with any investment.”

“You’re not wrong, you’re not wrong.” The car was silent for a moment with the only sound being the nature around them. The wind picked up and rustled through the trees as they drove. “So all you need is just an investment of money? I don’t need to deal with any of your… hostage, uh, warfare, do I?”

“Of course not.”

“Well,” Wick cleared his throat, “I suppose we can discuss exact numbers once we’ve made it back home, but I can lend you the money you need, Mitzi.”

Mitzi smiled. “Oh, that’s great to hear, Wick. I really appreciate it.”

“Yes, of course.” Mitzi’s smile was infectious, Wick discovered as his concentrated, deep-in-thought countenance morphed into a grinning one even as he had no idea why.

The two spent the rest of the leisured drive continuing to converse, although now the topic of business had slipped away, and now the two were simply friends, not just business partners or anything of that like. They revelled in the gentle breeze and the moderate temperature of a new spring. It had been plenty of time since the last time they were both able to enjoy such a simple pleasure without issue.

Mitzi waved goodbye to Wick at the end of their get-together. Mitzi had a check signed by the magnate, which she was sure to cash in as soon as she could; it was her ticket to renewed success. Or, at least, she hoped it was. Mitzi sat herself down in the driver’s seat of the car she’d driven here in, the windows still shot up from the first raid they’d had. That would be one of the things she’d have to fix with the new injection of funds, if she could manage it.

Mitzi had made her way back towards the café, only, at most, a block away from the garage where she’d park the car. But as she neared the café, she slowed as she passed a suspicious car parked on the opposite side of the street from the restaurant. Mitzi swore it was the same car she’d seen drive away the night Mordecai came. She tried not to stare too heavily, but she felt sure that sitting inside were familiar figures. In her peripheral vision, she could tell that they didn’t share the same carefulness Mitzi did; they blatantly stared at Mitzi. That wasn’t particularly comforting.

Mitzi had parked the car in the garage and made her way downstairs into the speakeasy, hoping to catch Rocky or Freckle and ask how things had been with that hostage which she’d boasted to Wick about. It wasn’t long before she did. Rocky was sat on a crate by the door to the storeroom, and had been conversing with Mordecai, although he trailed off as he noticed Mitzi.

“Hello, Rocky,” Mitzi greeted, raising her voice so as to be heard from the distance she was at, which was being made smaller as Mitzi continued to walk closer.

“Oh, hi, Miss M.,” Rocky smiled.

“How have things been while I was gone?” It had probably been three hours since she’d left. It wasn’t particularly long, but Rocky certainly could have messed things up in that time period.

“Things have been good.”

“Mordecai hasn’t tried anything funny?”

“Funny? I don’t think so. Define ‘funny.’”

“I’ll answer for you, Mitzi.” Mordecai said from inside the storeroom, “No, I haven’t done anything ‘funny.’”

“Yeah, exactly,” Rocky agreed. “There’s nothing funny about him.”

“Alright then.” Mitzi seemed to remain a tad skeptical still, but wouldn’t press it any further, “How have things been in the café. Have you been in?”

“Briefly. Things are good— Ivy and Freckle are busy up there right now.” Rocky paused. “Well, not  _ busy,  _ cause that, uh, isn’t exactly what I meant. I mean, they are busy, but just not—”

“Speaking of Freckle,” Mitzi interrupted Rocky’s ramblings, “do you think you and him would be up for some, well, some overtime?”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, I have a sneaking suspicion that, uh,” Mitzi leaned in some. Rocky quickly recognized what Mitzi was trying to do and leaned in, too. “The Marigolds are gonna try something again soon,” Mitzi whispered

“Well, what do you want us to do about that?” Rocky asked, not whispering.

This was annoying to Mordecai, who began to assume a lot of things from what Mitzi said before beginning to whisper. He wanted to hear what was happening, but of course, that was exactly what Mitzi  _ didn’t  _ want.

“You two stay here for the night, make sure no one tries to raid us, and have your cousin shoot up anyone who does.”

“The whole night?” Rocky asked, half-whispering now.

“I’ll pay you two extra for it.”

“But I didn’t think that we had much money left. Just the other day, you—”

“I had a meeting with Wick today. We worked something out.”

“Well,” Rocky pondered. Some extra money would be good and all, but did he really want to spend the whole night guarding the building?

“Ahem,” Mordecai cleared his throat. He was trying to get someone to tell him what was going on, despite knowing it probably wouldn’t happen.

If Rocky stayed, he could talk to Mordecai some. That was— was Rocky really going to stay just to talk to Mordecai? Was he so desperate?

“Rocky?” Mitzi said, looking for an answer.

Sure, why not? He could be desperate. Only god, and apparently Freckle, could judge him for it. “I can do it, but I’ll have to talk to Freckle about it and see about him.”

“Good. Thanks, Rocky.” Mitzi stood up straight again. “Alright then, keep guarding Mordecai, honey— I’ve got to go attend to things.”

“See ya, Miss M.,” Rocky shouted at Mitzi as she began down the passageway.

“What was that about?” Mordecai asked.

“Nothing much. Don’t worry about it.”


	13. Nightfall

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The café closes down, and Rocky and Freckle begin completing the job set out for them by Mitzi.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Dear god, it's been far longer than I wanted between chapters. I have no excuse. I've been dealing with school stuff a bit, sure, but I've also spent upwards of a hundred hours this past couple weeks on Steam. (I've been playing HOIV, in case you cared. I just started playing and, man, it's fun.) Regardless, here's this chapter. It's just a tad short, but I ended up making this part a bit too long for the next part to be part of the same chapter, so I'll write what's left as the next chapter. I'm also a bit concerned about this being in character for everyone and the dubiousness of the whole situation, so you're more than welcome to comment and let me know what (if anything) I should fix. Anyway, I hope you enjoy!

The sun had set a few hours ago now. The café was long closed, and almost everyone had filed out of the building. However, Freckle, Rocky, and Mordecai remained in the basement. Freckle, having been talked into staying and protecting the business overnight, had spent the time sitting in the garage, guarding its entrance. He’d asked that Rocky go sit in the café and guard that entrance, but Rocky had spent most, if not all, of the time sitting and talking to Mordecai. The two of which had been getting along rather well. Mordecai, of course, was still keeping his collected attitude as he worked towards an escape, however, even as Rocky continued.

It was starting to rain, Freckle noted, as he sat in the garage. Despite being mostly clear earlier in the day, clouds had quickly rolled in as dusk approached, and now it was rather stormy out. Freckle could hear the rain strike the building, the roof, the walls— the garage door especially. It was a sound Freckle particularly enjoyed. He often found it easier to sleep at night when he could hear the rain, even.

“And so we let the fire burn. It was that simple,” Mordecai said.

“Huh,” Rocky replied, “that's… interesting. What did you say that was for?”

“Business.”

“Oh, of course.” Rocky had been listening rather intently as Mordecai told a story from before he quit. “Did they survive?”

“Well, I don't quite remember what came of it,” Mordecai lied.

“Oh, alright.” The two were silent for a moment, both with nothing more to say on the topic. “Do you think anyone’s  _ actually  _ gonna try and break in tonight? I mean, you work with the Marigolds, what do you think about it?”

Ah, yes, the Marigolds: Mordecai's sole qualification, it would seem. “Perhaps. It’s been tried once— there’s no reason why it wouldn’t be tried again.”

“Okay, but  _ tonight.  _ Do you think they’ll try something  _ tonight? _ ”

“Not with you and your cousin so bravely defending your business,” Mordecai spoke dryly.

“Bravely de— you really think that?”

“Of course,” Mordecai continued with a blend of dry sarcasm and sly manipulation; he could easily tell that that was an opportunity to use Rocky. Besides, it wasn’t like throwing a compliment his way was hurting anyone, even if Mordecai didn’t exactly believe it.

“Thanks,” Rocky beamed.

“Following with that, if I may, how did you even end up guarding this place this late? Is there really not anyone else who could do that other than one of the band members?”

“Oh, well, you see—” Rocky began.

Freckle was sat in the garage still. He’d set the pistol down on a crate nearby, and was resting his head in his hand. While it wasn't particularly late, Freckle was somewhat tired, and sitting around doing nothing in particular wasn't really helping keep him awake. He fought to keep his eyes open. Only shortly later, however, his thoughts relapsed, and he let himself close his eyes. It was only a short time before he was sure to—

Freckle's eyes shot open. He'd heard something. He stood up, feeling acutely that his legs had been in the same position for some time; perhaps he’d been asleep for a while. Freckle didn't know. He stretched as he bent over to grab his gun, quickly feeling that his foot had fallen asleep. Freckle suddenly heard another noise from over by the garage doors; something like a clanking noise. He readied himself and then, as stealthily as the half-limping, inexperienced Freckle could, he rushed over towards the door by the garage doors.

He stood to the side, before glancing out of the window in the door out into the darkened outside landscape. He didn't see anything much in the dark, but it didn't look like there was anything out there. However, just when Freckle was about to pull away from the glass, he caught a glimpse of someone quickly hooking around the corner and out of sight. That was disconcerting. He'd have to make sure that Rocky was keeping an eye on the other entrance.

“Yet that's wholly unlikely,” Mordecai said.

“‘Wholly unlikely’? It happened nearly ten times,” Rocky replied.

“ _ Ten times?  _ How could you have accomplished that  _ ten times? _ ” They were talking about Rocky's past endeavors again.

“It just kinda happened, you know?”

“I most certainly don't.”

“Regardless, we traveled around to—”

“Rocky?” Freckle asked.

“Oh hey, Freckle.”

“What are you doing over here?”

“What do you mean?”

“You were supposed to be watching the café."

"Apologies."

"Well, would you go watch the garage then?"

"Why?"

"I just saw someone wandering around outside. They went around the corner and are probably heading towards the front."

“Who?” Mordecai wondered.

“Are you sure it wasn't just, maybe, someone having a midnight walk?” Rocky proposed.

“No, that's not it,” Freckle continued.

“Perhaps a classic case of—”

“You need to go watch the garage while I make sure no one tries to break in."

Rocky patted his pockets  “I don't have anything to stop a potential intruder with.”

“Just go watch for anyone; I can stop them.”

“Is he supposed to simply run back to you when an intruder gives chase?" Mordecai piped in.

"I guess," Freckle answered.

"That doesn't seem particularly smart."

"There's not a better way to do it. There isn't a gun to give you, Rocky, and even if there was, you couldn't be trusted with it."

"I can use a gun as well as you can, Freckle," Rocky retorted.

"You can't."

"Of course I can. Here, let me show you." He reached out to grab the gun out of Freckle's hands.

"No!" He pulled it back. "Please just go watch for people."

"Oh alright then." He began down the hall. "I'll let you know if something happens." Freckle turned away from Rocky and began walking down the hall towards the opposite entrance.

Freckle made his way through the establishment and up the stairs to the café. He crouched down in the corner, trying his best to hide himself from the windows. From where he was sitting, at least, it looked as if he was hidden rather well. He had his gun available, ready to spring out if someone tried to enter. This was all terribly exciting, really.

Rocky was sitting in the garage. He was leaning forward some, almost hunched over, resting his head in his hand, with his arm propped up on his lower thigh, his elbow digging rather uncomfortably into his leg. Nothing interesting or important was happening here. Probably, nothing  _ would  _ happen. It was probably just that Freckle wanted him to stop talking to Mordecai. Apparently he knows best, regarding Rocky's personal life. Ugh.

He leaned back, a bit too far to be comfortable; his neck bent at a severe angle and his back was almost perpendicular to the wall. He sat there, the uncomfortable position quickly becoming a bit painful. He was about to sit up when he heard someone quietly talking outside. His ears perked up, and he sat still. Listening carefully, he slowly sat up, trying to keep from making any sound. The voices were coming closer. Rocky was now sat up straight, and was staring out of the window in the door, looking to see who was out there. He stood up carefully and tiptoed over to the door. He leaned over towards the window and looked around, his eyes scanning from on side to the to the other. Rocky then saw someone begin coming around the corner, and quickly pulled back, standing aside so as to keep from being seen.

"Kick the door down?" someone muttered outside. Rocky shuddered. Oh, no. Freckle was right; there  _ were  _ people outside, and they were trying to break in. Welp. Rocky ducked down and made his way over to the trapdoor. He began to lift it up. The hinge made a loud squeaking sort of sound, and Rocky cringed.

"Oh, dere you are!" the same person outside exclaimed, their face up near the window.

Rocky slammed the trapdoor open and rushed down the stairs into the underground tunnels. The trapdoor slammed closed as Rocky began down the hallway. He nearly slipped in a small puddle of water, but steadied himself and continued.

"Freckle! Freckle! Get over here!" Rocky screamed down the tunnel. He heard the echoes of it in between breaths as he ran.

There was no response from Freckle. At least, not one that Rocky could detect. Oh, right— he was probably up in the café. Rocky just hoped that he could get over there and retrieve him before the intruders did anything.


	14. Intruder

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky and Freckle make sure that something's done about the intruder. It doesn't go as smoothly as anyone wanted it to.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! Sorry for taking a while on this chapter, too. I've gotten out my mini-funk, more or less, and have been working on this chapter a lot these past couple days. It was more or less fun to write, but I'm not the most confident in it— I'm almost sure that Freckle's kinda out of character, and I'm not sure how the pacing or plot progression is here, but this is what I've got. ¯\\_(ツ)_/¯  
> So, if you have any comments or criticism on it, please, leave it on here. I'll be sure to read it. Oh, and as of writing this, this story's now the second longest Lackadaisy fanfic here on Ao3! Neat! Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter.

Freckle was ready to pounce. He swore that he heard someone, and it wouldn't be long before they showed themselves. His pupils had contracted and his ears were perked. The muffled whisper of a voice was clearly getting closer. It would just be a moment more before—

"Freckle!" Rocky shouted, bursting out from behind the hidden door in the café.

Freckle screamed, and turned around, quickly shooting in the general direction of the scream.

"Whoa! Stop, it's just me!" Rocky yelped, flinching as the bullet whizzed past him and landed in a loaf of bread on the shelf behind him.

"Oh, I… sorry about that." Freckle sighed, "What is it?" He put the gun down, holding it at his side now. He briefly checked the magazine of the gun and his pupils dilated some as he relaxed.

"What's what?" Rocky wondered, trying to look where Freckle was looking, tilting his head to the side slightly.

"Why did you come here screaming my name?"

"Oh! Someone's breaking into the garage!"

Freckle looked up from the gun. "Oh." He began towards the door Rocky had come from. "Come on." He turned back and gestured for Rocky to go with him. Rocky obliged, quickly shutting the door behind him as the two hastily descended the stairs, Freckle leading the way.

"How many were there?" Freckle asked as the two moved.

"I don't know. At least one."

"Did you recognize anyone?"

"I don't think so." They were rushing through the establishment now.

"Did they see you?" Freckle continued.

"Definitely."

"What did they do?"

"Uh, kick the door in."

They rounded a corner and weren't far from the stairs that lead up to the garage. As they neared the straightaway, where the stairs could be seen at the end, they heard a voice, and slowed to a stop behind a corner.

"Is that them?" Freckle whispered.

Rocky listened intently for a second. "Mordecai? Peekon? You alive?"

"Yeah, that's them," Rocky answered quietly. Why was this guy looking for Mordecai? If he was sent to find Mordecai, was he a Marigold?

"Can you get a look at him? Where is he, what's he look like? Should I shoot at him?"

Rocky, as stealthily as he could, peeked slightly around the corner at the intruder. He was about halfway down the hall and walking rather slowly. He had a Tommy, and looked pretty formidable; sturdy, Rocky might say. Trying to tackle him and wrestle away the weapon, or anything like that, clearly wasn’t the best course of action here.

“About halfway down, pretty brawny-looking, I don’t know if you should shoot at him.”

“Has he got a gun?”

“Yeah, bigger than your pistol,” Rocky muttered, gesturing to the gun in Freckle’s hands, “although I suppose size isn’t everything.”

“...So I shouldn’t shoot at him?”

“Probably not.”

“Well then, what should we do, Rocky? We can’t let him do whatever he wants,” Freckle urged as the footsteps of the intruder neared.

“I don’t know— shoot him, I guess!” Rocky whispered.

“Be prepared to run.” Freckle leaned around the corner hurriedly and began shooting, quickly finding and aiming at his target.

“Oh, dere we are,” the intruder smiled as Freckle missed. He stood with his legs apart some and began to shoot back.

Freckle got in one more shot before quickly rounding and clumsily grabbing Rocky by the wrist. “That didn’t work,” Freckle stated, running.

“Well now what?” Rocky asked, following behind Freckle as they sprinted away.

“Uh, get to another spot and try again.”

“That doesn’t sound good.”

“Ah, don’ be tryin’ to run now,” the intruder shouted from down the hall, a torrent of bullets following the remark.

The two stopped around another corner. Freckle leaned around it and tried to shoot at the intruder. The first shot missed by a considerable distance. The second just nicked him in the side of his lower left leg, only grazing him slightly. “Gettin’ closer,” the intruder smirked.

“This isn’t gonna work— I’m almost flat out of rounds,” Freckle said, quickly taking a glance at the magazine again.

“Are there more somewhere?” Rocky asked.

“Yeah, but,” Freckle put his face in his palm, “I left them upstairs.”

“I can go get them, if you can keep from being shot. I’ll bring them to you, you shoot this guy apart, then we can—”   
“Gotcha,” the intruder sniggered.

The two boys quickly jumped up and farther down the hall. Rocky’s ear got hit by one of the bullets. Rocky winced, but continued running. Of course, it was just his luck; it was the ear that  _ hadn’t  _ been shot.

Rocky, still running, between breaths, began, “So should I get the—”

“Yes! Hurry!” Freckle shouted.

“Alright then, bossy.” Rocky accelerated his pace and made way for the stairs.

Mordecai was sitting in the dark in the storeroom. Now that Rocky was gone, he could sleep. Now, Rocky wasn’t exactly a nuisance, per se, but Mordecai wasn’t exactly trying to see how far into the night he could stay up. So now, Mordecai laid on the floor, his eyes closed, working to fall asleep. That was when he heard the gunshots.

There was an alarming amount of gunshots. It sounded like a submachine gun. Was someone robbing them again? Or, Mordecai’s mind wondered, was it the Savoys  _ finally  _ coming back to retrieve him. Well, Mordecai sat upright, listening carefully to the gunshots as he thought about it. Perhaps he would be saved tonight. That would be well appreciated; no more pandering to try and con his way out.

Rocky returned from the café, and had a couple of magazines. Hopefully that would be enough to keep from dying. As he descended the stairs, he reached up and touched his shot ear. He winced and pulled his hand back. It wasn’t bleeding terribly, but damn it, it hurt more than the last time. Of course it had to go through the thicker part of the ear, in the back. And that wouldn’t look weird as all get out.

Rocky ran back to Freckle, who now hunkered down behind a stack of crates. They didn’t seem to be full of alcohol, as they were taking the bullets shot at them, and there was no leaking. “Here, take these,” Rocky demanded quickly, unloading all of the magazines.

“Thanks,” Freckle nodded, taking one of them and loading into the pistol. He looked around the crates and shot at the intruder, who was mostly behind a corner in the hall. He pulled back as he saw Freckle lean around the corner, and the shot missed.

“Do you think… that you can try to, um, attack him?”

“Me? I don’t even have anything to try and attack him with! Besides, have you  _ seen  _ him? If I punched him, I think I’d break my fist before I broke him!”

“Oh, thank you, cajoler,” the intruder shouted.

“Try to stab him or knee him in the crotch, I don’t know, but I’m not gonna be able to do anything without some sort of help,” Freckle implored.

“But— Oh, you’re right, aren’t you? Damn it. Try to get him out in the open, I’ll be right back.” Rocky ran back down the tunnel, back towards the establishment.

Rocky ran as quickly as he could back into the establishment, and searched around hastily. Eventually, he found it; on the floor lay a slightly broken, but mostly intact glass bottle. He grabbed it and ran back to Freckle.

Rocky hid back behind the crates with his cousin. “What was that for?” Freckle asked.

“Got this,” Rocky said, holding up the bottle for Freckle to see.

“And…?”

“Gonna smash it over him.”

“Oh, okay. You ready?”

Rocky took a couple deep breaths. “Don’t let me die, if you can help it.”

“Alright.” Freckle jumped out from behind the stack of crates and stood out in the open for a moment, getting the intruder’s attention. He jumped out, in turn, from behind the corner, and began to shoot. Freckle moved back, avoiding, quite luckily, getting shot. The intruder took a few steps forward. Freckle moved almost erratically taking advantage of the bad accuracy of the intruder’s gun as he continued to move backward. Despite his success so far, Rocky still hadn’t actually done anything, and Freckle was starting to wonder if Rocky’s “plan” was some sort of trick to get Freckle killed.

As the intruder took another step forward, Rocky sprung into action. Rocky pushed the crates over. They slammed into the intruder, who blocked the attack with his arm, but stumbled nonetheless. Rocky jumped out, brandishing the bottle. As he ran behind him, he smashed the bottle against the intruder’s head, spreading glass everywhere. The intruder recoiled. Rocky was now behind them. Rocky took the remains of the bottle and stabbed into the back of the intruder. They grimaced, but still spun around and punched Rocky in the chest. Rocky couldn’t withstand the swing, and fell onto the floor. Freckle sprung back out of cover and shot, hitting the intruder in the calf with a bullet. The intruder stumbled. He looked over his shoulder. Wincing from the pain, he dashed away, limping slightly.

Freckle dropped to his knees at Rocky’s side. Rocky was groaning and wincing. “You alright? You okay?” Freckle asked.

“I’m—” Rocky inhaled, “fine.”

“What happened?”

“Got punched.”

“Did you get shot?” Freckle examined Rocky for any bullet wounds and the ground for any suddenly growing puddles of blood.

“No.” Rocky curled into a ball.

Freckle stood up and rushed to the corner. Looking around it, he saw no one. He continued farther down the hall, looking to find the guy. Freckle had to at least make sure that he left the building and didn’t come back.

He ran down the entire length of the hall, and looked in the garage, but he was gone. There was a trail of blood that led out of the garage. The door was broken, even more so now, and was almost broken off from the hinges. There was even a huge crack in the center of it. Freckle searched around the garage for someone else hiding, but didn’t find anyone. He glanced around outside, where he’d seen and where he’d heard the intruder, but saw no one; the blood trail led directly away from the building. Freckle was safe— probably. At least for now, that was. Freckle was gonna go watch the café entrance.

Rocky stood up, his chest pain and inability to breathe mostly gone now. His arm still hurt some— he'd landed on it when he fell. He cleared his throat, holding his arm, waiting for the pain to subside, and glanced around the corner, looking for Freckle. Lo and behold, there he was, quickly walking back from the garage. "What happened?" Rocky questioned, Freckle coming up to and passing Rocky. Rocky began walking, coming up alongside Freckle.

"He's gone. I'm just gonna make sure they don't try again at the front."

"You don't think he  _ would,  _ do you?"

"Probably not. But he seemed cocky."

"I'd have to agree with you, cousin."

Freckle glanced at Rocky, still holding his arm as he walked. "What happened there?" Freckle gestured to Rocky's arm.

"Oh. I fell on it."

"You alright?"

"Yeah, yeah, I'm good. It's the ear that isn't." He pointed to it, letting go of his arm for a moment.

Freckle looked up at his ears, taking a moment before spotting the recent wound. "What happened there?"

"Got shot."

"Do you… need something for that?"

"Maybe." The two ascended the stairs to the café. The stairs creaked with their steps.

They opened the door and were back in the café. Freckle looked out the window, searching for the intruder. As he did, he saw a car parked across the street roar to life and drive away. Looking at it as it drove away, he saw the intruder in the passenger seat. Of course.

"Alright, I think we're good now." Freckle stated, "I think that was them leaving."

"Oh, good." Rocky stood there for a moment, smiling slightly, "I guess we should go clean up the blood and spend rounds. Don't  _ want  _ it  looking like a crime scene."

"Well, should we go tell Mitzi about what happened?"

Rocky pondered it for a minute. "Eh, probably not— we should just let her sleep. Besides, it's not like waking her up would do anything useful." Rocky leaned over and grabbed some various cleaning supplies before beginning back down the stairs. "Come on." Freckle obliged and followed Rocky down the stairs, closing the door behind him as he descended.

As they continued towards where the shootout had happened, they passed by the storeroom. "Who's out there?" Mordecai asked from inside of it.

"Oh, Mordecai! Hey," Rocky responded.

"What happened?"

"Someone broke in."

"Who? What did they look like?"

"Why?" Rocky snickered, "Were you expecting someone?"

"No, it's not— No, I wasn't."

"Oh, okay," Rocky smiled. Freckle gave Rocky a judgemental look.

"What happened?"

"Someone broke in, shot at us, we shot at them. You know— the usual."

"What did they look like?"

"Well if you  _ really  _ care so much, it was a brawny-looking guy. Wore some sort of ascot or something. Something like a vest, too."

"What did he sound like?"

"He had a thick sort of accent of some kind."

Mordecai hummed in understanding. "What happened to him?"

"He drove off, Mordecai," Freckle interjected.

"Yeah, so you don't have to worry about that guy," Rocky said.

"Oh, well, wonderful," Mordecai replied, subtly sounding dejected.

"Means more talking to me, buddy." Rocky winced as he accidentally brushed his ear up against the wall as he tried leaning against it. "Oh, and by the way, I got shot in the ear. What should I do about that?"

"Well, I suppose you should put some alcohol on it. If you have any."

"You're not the only breadwinner, Mordecai; I'm plenty capable, too."

"Fantastic. Clean out your wounds, then."

"I will,  _ sweetheart _ ," Rocky replied with a sort of facetious tone, yet still in a pleasant, friendly sort of way.

"You just— I'm not— that's—" Mordecai stammered.

"Okay, well, I'm gonna go clean up the mess we made. You two can just keep doing whatever it is you're doing." Freckle walked away, grabbing some of the cleaning supplies off of Rocky, who was now a tad flustered himself. That was interesting, what Rocky had just done. 


	15. Overmorrow

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> A few days have passed by, and some things have changed, for better or for worse. Mitzi had been working hard to fix up the business, and Rocky and Mordecai have been talking.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Almost got his chapter done within that week-per-chapter schedule I've been neglecting, huh? Well, I'll do my best to make sure that I get back on schedule in the future. So, this chapter's kinda fun. Personally, I like this chapter, but be sure to comment on it if you have some criticisms or corrections about it! Also, while this chapter's name is 'Overmorrow', meaning the day after tomorrow, this chapter probably doesn't take place exactly two days after the last one. There's no word for the day after the day after tomorrow or whatever, and I just really wanted to use overmorrow— one of my favorite archaic words, so there's that. However many days have passed is up to you; I didn't really wanna come up with an exact number cause I don't care and my whole being hates making specific dates in these sorts of stories. Also, 30k words now! That's too damn many. Anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter!

"And that was the last time anyone heard from her."

"So they killed her."

"Nah, she hopped a train and went west." Rocky and Mordecai were sat downstairs in the speakeasy. Several days had passed since the break-in, and some things had changed.

Mitzi had fixed many things that had to be fixed. The door in the garage, as well as the shot furniture in the establishment, had been replaced. Some of that new furniture, namely a small leather couch, was seating Rocky, who was rather comfortably strewn about it. His ear had been patched up and treated appropriately. On the other hand, his arm, luckily, had only been bruised. Mordecai was sat at the counter on a sort of stool which he’d swiveled so that he faced Rocky. The two had been conversing for about an hour now.

"You said that she had disputes with a sort of gang in town?" Mordecai said.

"Yeah," Rocky responded.

"Then surely they killed her— especially if no one's heard from her."

"She got out of town before that could happen."

"It's possible, I suppose. Unlikely, one might say, but possible."

The business had reopened after a short hiatus that had ended the previous night. They served both the alcohol that Freckle and Zib had unloaded before Mordecai's break-in, as well as the alcohol procured from Defiance, which Rocky and Freckle had retrieved without a hitch. As such, business was good. It was almost better than before, in fact.

“Oh, I wouldn't be able to say; she travelled out west somewhere, and then _I_ travelled around— I doubt we'd even be able to get in touch with each other."

"Well, would you want to? Were you two close?"

"Well, I mean, not— no, she was a pretty good friend, so I, uh, if we were able to. If, _I,_ were able to, then yeah, I, um, I would. To catch up. As friends."

“That's good."

Rocky and Mordecai had gotten closer in a sense. The pair might even be considered friends, as long as one ignored the hostage part of the equation. In fact, they even had an inside joke or two, even if Rocky was the only one who laughed at them. Talking to each other for hours each day did wonders for breaking the ice. Or, probably more accurately, breaking a proverbial glacier between them. At least one of the parties was held against their will, after all, and it would take a lot of friendly bonding to get a hostage to simply forget or move past that.

So, Rocky had essentially become Mordecai's sole caretaker. While Mitzi still didn't, and probably wouldn't, trust Mordecai, she _did_ trust Rocky, or, at least mostly. So, he was the one who made sure that Mordecai didn't, for example, die, while in their care. Mitzi was still negotiating with the Marigolds, after all. So Rocky was the one who made sure Mordecai's needs were met while he was kept hostage. And while not a need, Rocky would often let Mordecai hang around outside of the storeroom. After all, as long as Rocky watched over him, he could get out from that cramped room for a little bit. Indeed, that was what was happening as Rocky and Mordecai conversed.

“Yeah, I mean, it’d be interesting to get back in touch, see what’s happened and all that.”

“I rarely have old acquaintances to get back in touch with, but I might have to dis—”

“Oh, Rocky, I—” Mitzi began, entering the room from a tunnel leading to the garage, “What’re you doing here, Mordecai?” Mitzi stopped and judged Mordecai with a stern face.

“Hello, Mitzi. You kidnapped me, remember?” Mordecai retorted.

“You know what I mean.”

“I brought him out here,” Rocky replied to Mitzi.

“Why?” Mitzi asked.

“He’s spent a while in the storeroom, so I let him hang around out here while I make sure that, uh,” Mitzi raised an eyebrow, “he doesn’t run away or anything like that.”

“...Let’s have ourselves a little chat for a moment.” Mitzi led Rocky out of earshot and then looked over her shoulder, shouting slightly, “Don’t think about running now, Mordecai; I’ll shoot you if you try anything.”

“Got it,” Mordecai replied.

Mitzi turned back and whispered to Rocky. “What’s going on here?”

“What do you mean?” Rocky wondered.

“With Mordecai. He broke in, remember? Why’re you tryin’ to make sure he’s not cramped or whatever?”

“Well, he’s not _all_ bad, Miss M., you know? We’re trying to survive, he’s trying to survive— we’re not… all that, uh… different...” Rocky trailed off as Mitzi stared at him, brow furrowing.

“I see what’s going on here.”

“What?”

“Mordecai’s playin’ you like a damn fiddle.”

“Huh? That’s not—”

“He’s manipulatin’ you, Rocky. He’s tricked you into feeling for him. You’ve got feelings for him.”

“What? That’s not true. I don’t have feelings for him.”

“Really now?”

“Besides, it’s not like he’s tricked me. My— If I developed feelings for him, it wouldn’t be because he tricked me; that doesn’t seem right.”

“Uh huh,” Mitzi judged.

“If there were any feelings they would be completely natural. But there aren’t any.”

“We both know that you’re lyin’, right?”

“No, I’m not—”

“Okay, well for everyone’s sakes, I think you should put Mordecai back in the storeroom for now. Besides, I need you to do some of the work Zib’s supposed to be doin’ around here.”

Rocky cocked his head, quickly forgetting about his argument moments before. “What’s going on with Zib?”

Mitzi sighed, “He hasn’t showed up the past couple of days.”

“Is he okay?”

“Probably. I think he’s just taking some time off— he said he might— but he also said he’d let me know if he did. He probably just forgot about that, but I guess I need to send Ivy, maybe, to go check up on him today if he doesn’t show.” Mitzi glanced over at Mordecai, who seemed to be closely inspecting his tie, for whatever reason. “But for now, I need you to do some of the stuff he’s supposed to be doin’ right now.”

“Oh, well, alright.”

“So I’d really appreciate if you could put Mordecai back in the storeroom and help out in the garage.”

“Okay,” Rocky nodded. The two made their way back towards Mordecai. Rocky then brought Mordecai back to the storeroom, although the two talked for a bit, delaying the door being closed and locked. Mitzi quietly hurried Rocky along and made her way to the garage.

Rocky truly had developed feelings for Mordecai, if he hadn’t already made it obvious enough to everyone in a square mile. But it would seem that he was really the only one who supported that; Freckle seemed almost critical of it, and Mitzi believed that it was just some trick Mordecai was pulling. And who knows what his other acquaintances would think of that. So Rocky was a little hesitant to act upon that. Besides, Mordecai probably wouldn’t even reciprocate anything like that— as far as Rocky knew, Mordecai was nearly incapable of romance and love. But that was fine; Rocky would deal with that. He was still interesting and more or less fun to hang out with. Rocky would just have to… not have feelings for Mordecai. He could manage that. That was easy enough.

Mordecai still wanted to escape. And it looked as if perhaps he even had a way _to_ escape— Rocky. The boy was clearly, for better or for worse, infatuated with Mordecai for whatever reasons, and Mordecai was nearly sure that, if he wanted to, he could direct Rocky to let him free. And he probably would do it. However, Mordecai would be lying if he said he was completely focused on escape; he’d realized that he enjoyed the brief escape from work. He didn’t have to deal with Asa or the jobs that he would be assigned. Instead, he basically had a free vacation. And there was what Mordecai really feared; Mordecai somewhat felt for Rocky, too.

He’d been trying to stay vigilant and keep such a travesty from developing, but it had happened. Rocky was fun. He had, somehow, just as many stories from his past to tell as Mordecai did. He was always energetic and bubbling, even if that sometimes bothered Mordecai. And absolutely worst of all, it took him back to what he felt with Viktor before everything that happened. So, even if he was mortified by the realization, Mordecai really _didn’t_ want to leave. He was a hostage, yet he was almost enjoying it somehow. So Mordecai debated relaying his feelings to Rocky.

After the conversation he’d heard Freckle and Rocky have after Mordecai’s shower upstairs the other day, he was almost sure that Rocky would reciprocate such emotions, but Mordecai was struggling with the thought of it; Rocky was good, sure, but would the feeling hold true with time? Would it fade? What would happen when Mordecai inevitably went back to working with Asa? Such a cross-business relationship would surely result only in hardships for both of them, maybe even death, given the extreme nature of the trade. And what about Viktor?

Mordecai’s emotions regarding Viktor were complex and hard for even him to understand. He was upset at Viktor for not listening to him, but he was also still disheartened by the simply brutal breakup the two had had. And now, well before Mordecai had even wrapped his head around that whole disaster, there was a new variable. Mordecai had yet to move on from Viktor, and now that he felt that perhaps he could, even should, it was hard for him to decide. So, Mordecai kept quiet about it, even as he pondered over it nearly consistently. Mordecai would have to wait for some sort of sign, change, or obvious path to follow, and until then, this state of near-limbo would have to suffice.

It was later that day, and Rocky had finished up what Mitzi had asked of him, and had gone back to the storeroom. Rocky was talking with Mordecai in the hall. Mordecai sat himself on a crate that Rocky had brought from the garage after he had worked in there. Rocky leaned against the wall, warm after lifting and moving things that Zib was supposed to.

“So all I’m asking is: you wouldn’t happen to know anything about where he is, would you?” Rocky asked.

“No, why would I?” Mordecai wondered, cleaning his glasses with his shirt as he held them in his hand.

“Well, I was just wondering. You seem to know a lot of people, it’s possible that you know what’s going on with him.”

“I know that he works here, plays in the band, and that he was the one who locked me up here.”

“Oh, but you’re enjoying it so much, Mordecai! I know you just can’t get enough of this place and its beautiful underground atmosphere.”

“Of course, I’m having just the best week of my life, being held hostage here,” Mordecai replied dryly. It was strange, it was both a sarcastic comment as well as a somewhat genuine, although hyperbolic statement.

“Well that’s great news,” Rocky smiled, “really great.”

“So what do you think about it, then? _You_ had to do the work that he—”

There was some sort of noise that echoed down the tunnels, causing Mordecai to cut himself off. It sounded like some sort of grunt or even a shout. It came from the garage, where Rocky had been less than five minutes ago. The two, their conversation having been immediately stopped, listened carefully to try and tell what it was.

“That groan seems wholly familiar,” Mordecai whispered.

“...I think I should go get Freckle; this must be some sort of—”

From behind the corner, a good ways away down the tunnel appeared a figure. The two were practically frozen stiff, their gazes fixed on the silhouette. They were filled with the sudden dread that someone was in there, someone who seemed unfamiliar and wasn’t expected, before both seemed to come back to life in a sense.

Rocky was the first to speak. “What’s Viktor doing here?”

Mordecai felt his pocket, finding with his hand the glasses Viktor supposedly wanted to give to Mordecai as if he was checking that he had his keys before leaving the house. Mordecai looked into the eyes of Viktor, who did _not_ seem particularly joyful and felt a sudden near-terrored panic. “Why the hell is Viktor here?” Mordecai took a step back and somewhat slipped behind Rocky, almost as if he were a child hiding behind a parent at the sight of something scary. It was rather undignified.

“Heya, Viktor! What’re you doing out of your chair?” Rocky asked, projecting his voice.

Viktor coughed for a moment, then shouted, “Here to talk.”


	16. Argument

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Viktor and Mordecai come face to face as Rocky watches on. Things get a bit out of hand for everyone involved.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. Sorry for taking as long as I have in getting this chapter out. I've been getting distracted. But, nonetheless, here it is— chapter 16. I'm personally pretty happy with it, except for a couple of paragraphs in the latter half of the chapter. But I enjoy it, but that could also be because I enjoy writing and reading arguments. (This chapter has an argument in it, in case you couldn't tell). The only note I have is that I use the word 'beau' at a point. I could've used 'boyfriend', but looking at Google's Ngram Viewer (my best friend writing in dialogue for this story), 'boyfriend' wasn't a popular word, and 'beau' certainly was. In Lackadaisy Academia, 'boyfriend' *was* used, but it doesn't seem to be the most historically accurate. Maybe I'm wrong or just being overly picky, but, well, there you go.  
> Viktor is prominent in this chapter, which is very apt regarding the update to the comic coming soon. And sorry for putting an argument up the beginning of Pride. Things will get better before too long. But anyway, I hope you enjoy the chapter! And if you happen to be disheartened because of this chapter; things will generally get a little less dramatic and serious eventually.

“What’re you here to talk about?” Rocky asked as Viktor approached. He had no more trouble walking than usual but seemed to grimace slightly as he did.

“Talk to Mordecai,” Viktor said.

“Oh, he’s, uh…” Rocky trailed off, trying to think of how to finish his thought.

“I don’t want to do that,” Mordecai whispered from behind Rocky.

“Not here,” Rocky finished, continuing to look at Viktor.

“I see him behind you,” Viktor argued.

“Um, I don’t.” Viktor was now only a few feet away from Rocky and had stopped approaching. Rocky tried to stand in the way so that Mordecai couldn’t be seen. It, of course, wasn’t working.

“Let me talk to him. Go somevhere else.”

“Well, I—”

“Mordecai,” Viktor interrupted, “vhy are you here? Vhy come back?”

Mordecai sighed, lightly pushing Rocky out of the way. He shuffled aside. “I could ask the same about you; you clearly are in no state to limp your way out here.” Mordecai gestured to Viktor with his hand, sweeping it across his figure.

“And I thought you in no state to hide behind boy.”

“I’m not  _ that  _ young,” Rocky added.

“It’s only because I don’t exactly want to be forced to argue with you,” Mordecai argued.

“Too afraid to talk, even?” Viktor ridiculed.

“Well, surely you remember how you were last time.”

“Vhat, about me being angry, you’re confused? You shot me in the knees!” Viktor’s voice faltered as he finished his thought, only barely being able to get his sentence out before having a somewhat violent coughing fit into his hand.

“You left me with no other choice, Viktor.”

Viktor cleared his throat quietly, rubbing the back of his hand against his pants. “No other choice?” His voice was rather raspy now. “Nonsense. And that vasn’t enough? Come back to rob vhat’s left?”

“It’s just business; we both engaged in our fair share of dirty work, and this is nothing new. This shouldn’t be your hill to die on.”

“You don’t haff even second thoughts? Just steal from old friends?”

“Of course I had second thoughts, but scr—”

“It didn’t matter enough?” Viktor cut in. Rocky just stood to the side and awkwardly watched the two draw closer together and seemingly get increasingly angrier.

“It’s  _ work,  _ Viktor, I don’t know what else you want from me. Extortion, arson, and murder, among other things, wasn’t enough for you to draw the line, so why is this?”

“These people gave you vork, money to live, experience, so on, and you just come and disregard everything and try to destroy that. Just cause Asa told you?”

“So did you really just shamble over here to try and make me feel guilty over this? Was this your whole purpose? You’d put yourself in physical pain and disregard your rather grave injuries just so that you could feel high and mighty? Is  _ that  _ what this is about?” Mordecai was raising his voice some. Rocky was now trying not to look directly at either of the two, twiddling his thumbs.

“I vanted to talk. After everything that you’ve done, I thought I deserved that much.”

“Okay then. What is it? What did you want to talk about?”

“I vanted to see if you still had sense in you.”

“Oh, okay, “ Mordecai half-sniggered, “I see. So I was right. We’ve had this argument before, and it didn’t turn out wonderfully, so maybe we can skip out on a repeat.”

“You can’t shoot me.”

“Alright then, if that’s truly your only objection, then sure, let’s go ahead; I work for the Marigolds now, and that’s that on that. Our argument already happened, and the effects of that have already come to fruition. The die has been cast, I’ve crossed the Rubicon. It’s been done.”

“They’re more important than friends?”

“You know that it was a hard decision to make, Viktor! We alread—”

“Than me?” Viktor’s voice was giving out in his increasingly agitated fight.

“That was the hardest part: leaving you, but that didn’t mean that I was going to let myself wither away in destitution or die on some sort of dangerous job just for that.”

“Hold on, what do—” Rocky tried to interject.

“Run away at the drop of a hat? Offer yourself to the highest bidder?” Viktor snarled.

“It’s not cowardice. Nor is it greed.”

“You haff done bad at making it seem that vay.”

“It’s not my job to convince you Viktor.”

“Really? It’s not? Then who has that job?”

“I already tried to explain this to you Viktor! Infamously! And since you seemed to salvage  _ nothing  _ from that conversation, then it is just  _ not  _ my job to give you an explanation every time you’re upset.”

Viktor glanced at Rocky, who was standing to the side of Mordecai, not too unlike how Mordecai stood behind Rocky when he first saw Viktor. Viktor stared him down for a brief moment. “Vell then maybe your beau could explain,” Viktor jeered, gesturing at Rocky.

“What?” Rocky blurted out.

“You think—” Mordecai began.

“You move on from me vhen ve disagree, and get together with this boy. And you’ll move on from  _ him  _ vhen  _ you two  _ disagree. You’re greedy vith the money and you’re greedy vith the bo—”

“I think you should leave, Viktor.” Mordecai was staring Viktor down. Rocky felt that something bad was just about to happen.

“Vhy? Forced to face truth?” Viktor smirked, crossing his arms.

“Just hobble back to your little hole in the wall and we can  _ both  _ move on.”

“Make me.”

“Do you think I won’t? Or perhaps you think the holes in your chest give you some sort of combat advantage?”

“Uh, I think you two should—” Rocky uttered.

“Quiet!” both of the two shouted, turning towards Rock before turning back to face the other.

“Perhaps you think you’ve  _ ever  _ bested me? Even in bed you—” Mordecai, with his left hand, closed into a fist, swung at Viktor’s jaw. He pulled back. “There ve go,” he chuckled hoarsely. In just a second or two the two had begun fighting.

Rocky quickly tried to jump in the middle and physically separate the two. He shouted, “Whoa! Hold on!” He ducked down low and tried to push the two apart. Above his crouched position, the two were quickly attacking each other, mostly ignoring that Rocky was there at all.

Ten or so seconds later, with Rocky barely being able to separate the two, and both hurling both insults and punches at each other, Freckle came from down the hall, walking quickly. Once he saw what was happening, he rushed over and joined Rocky in trying to separate the two. The two together were managing to pull the two apart some. The scene was becoming vicious as well as uncontrollably loud.

After a minute, the two were separated, and each brawler was being held back by one of the two cousins. Rocky was trying to hold back Viktor and was doing poorly. He was behind him, trying to keep him pulled back, but wasn’t the greatest match against Viktor. Freckle had his arm wrapped around Mordecai under his chin, holding him back rather effectively. In being physically separated, at least mostly, the two were no longer trying to punch each other. But, they were continuing to yell insults at one another. In this vicious shouting match, the noise had grown loud enough for Mitzi to become concerned enough to come down and try to figure it out. She appeared from down the hall, in much the same Freckle did, and she rushed over, struggling to get a word in so as to figure out what was happening. Ivy was perhaps only a few paces behind her, trying to find and quiet the noise as the other two who had come down were trying to do, and she followed into the fray.

It was upon seeing Ivy, as well as finally starting to feel the punches, and accidental claw marks, that Mordecai had dealt, that Viktor ceased to shout at the other in a violent sort of mix of Slovakian curses and English insults. He now silently looked at Ivy as she hurried over.

This was when Mitzi could finally get a word in. “What are you two doing?”

“What are you doing here, Viktor?” Ivy asked, speaking as Mitzi was finishing her sentence.

Mordecai spoke, “Viktor limped in here and tried to pick a fight with me.”

“Was that what happened?” Mitzi asked, looking at Rocky now.

“Talking,” Viktor answered to Ivy.

“Well, it’s not exac—” Rocky added into the mess of voices.

“Shut up!” Freckle shouted, quieting everyone and getting their attention, “You guys are all just talking over each other.”

“Is what Mordecai said,” Mitzi questioned, waiting a moment to speak after Freckle finished, “accurate?”

“Viktor came in, and the two started arguing. Then they started fighting. For some reason.”

“I told you you were in no condition to do that, Viktor!” Ivy lectured.

“Sorry, dievka,” Viktor apologized.

“Alright, I think you need to go back home, Viktor,” Mitzi instructed, pinching the bridge of her nose, “and you need to put Mordecai back in the storeroom for now, Rocky, and then we should all have a talk.”

Rocky looked over to Mordecai, who glanced back. “Okay,” Rocky agreed.

“Alright, Viktor, let’s get you back home,” Ivy said, getting the two to start heading back toward the garage. “Did you get hurt? More than you are already?” Their conversation trailed out as they walked away from the others.

“Do you need anything?” Rocky asked quietly, opening the door to the storeroom for Mordecai. Mitzi stood only a few feet away from the two of them. She seemed to be talking, nearly whispering, to Freckle.

“I’m fine,” Mordecai stated matter-of-factly, holding the left side of his jaw.

“Ice or something? You got punched right in the face.”

“I’m alright.” Rocky felt that he ought to get him something after all that had happened, but he didn’t want to press it further, and Mitzi was basically waiting for him to hurry up.

“Alright then. See ya.” Mordecai nodded subtly as Rocky closed the door. He locked the door and stood there for a moment before sighing. He then turned to face the other two and walked towards them.

“Let’s talk,” Mitzi urged, beginning to walk down the hall. The boys followed suit, walking alongside her. “So, Rocky.”

“Yeah?” Rocky acknowledged his name.

“Why were they arguing? Why’d they start fightin’?”

“Something to do with Mordecai going to go work at the Maribel. Viktor wasn’t happy about it.”

“Again?” Mitzi groaned. “It’s such a sore spot for the two of them, and yet they keep coming back to each other to argue about it.”

“Is this the first time?”

“No, I’ve heard from Viktor that it’s happened once or twice before, but it’s the first time they’ve done that here. But unless Viktor’s purposefully leaving out details, it might be the first time that it got so… vicious.”

“...Did they used to be together?”

“Yeah, they did. They were always trying to look professional when they were working— they would never let on that they were dating. And, you know, I didn’t really care about it; they could do whatever they wanted. At the very least, I thought it might keep them from stabbing each other in the back. I guess, in the end, that more or less happened, though.”

“Are you gonna do anything about them fighting each other?”

“Try to keep ‘em separated. Other than that, I don’t know— I’ll have to think about it.” Mitzi cleared her throat. “But there’s something else I wanted us to talk about here.”

“Yeah?”

“You have feelings for Mordecai.”

“That’s not true.”

“Okay. Well, listen, it’s great and all that you have an object of affection, but I need you to be careful; you can’t forget that Mordecai is still an intruder and  _ not  _ a guest. I don’t want to have to intervene, but if Mordecai ends up manipulating you, I might have to.”

“He’s not manipulating me.” Rocky was stern about this.

“Alright. I just need you to realize that Mordecai is pretty clever. And don’t forget that he’ll be heading back to the Maribel before long. Things could change at that point.”

“Okay.”

“Okay. Now, I’m gonna go back upstairs and get back to work, and Freckle’s gonna manage the café now that Ivy’s gone. All I need from you is just to make sure that Viktor doesn’t come back trying to start something. And don’t let Mordecai leave, of course.”

“I can do that.”

“Good. Keep up the good work; you’ve done a great job these past few days.” With that, Mitzi and Freckle broke off and made their way back upstairs, heading the same way that Viktor and Ivy had gone.

Rocky headed back to the storeroom. He sat down on a crate, which creaked as he did.

“...You’re sure you don’t need anything, Mordecai?” Rocky asked quietly.

“I’m fine. I need nothing. Thanks,” Mordecai answered.

“So, do you need to talk about what just happened there with Viktor?”

“I’d rather not right now.”

“Okay.” Rocky paused, “So, Viktor thought that we were… together?”

“Apparently.”

“Well, that’s… you, uh, do you—”

“I don’t know. I don’t particularly want to talk about that right now.”

“Alright. Do you want me to go?”

“That would be appreciated for the time being.”

“Alright. See you some other time.” Rocky stood up. His farewell got no audible response from Mordecai after he waited for a moment. He went ahead and walked away, leaving Mordecai alone. The two would have to talk about what happened at some point, though, rocky figured. Rocky had some questions.

Mordecai was left alone with his thoughts. That whole situation was basically the exact worst-case scenario Mordecai had in mind if and when Viktor came to see him here in captivity. His suit had been messed up. Plenty of details had been divulged that Mordecai didn’t want to be. Mordecai had been bruised, and his jaw ached. And there was a flood of hypotheticals, plans, questions, and general thoughts rushing through Mordecai’s head. Viktor had gotten to Mordecai. And none of this was what Mordecai had wanted. Perhaps it would be time to tell Rocky about all of this soon.


	17. Officer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Asa has a plan to accomplish what he's wanted that the Savoys can't interfere with. Zib is found where he's expected.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Apologies for another accidentally long gap between chapter uploads; that's entirely my fault. Anyway, this chapter's a fun one, I think. A bit of dialogue is awkward, and it's a tinny bit short for my tastes, but it covers a moderately important part of the overarching story here, and I enjoy its place in the plot. Two notes, then. One, "Blue Skies", mentioned later, is a jazz song from roughly 1926-27 written by Irving Berlin. After a quick bit (still, like, ten minutes) of searching, I thought it might be a sensical song to put into the story once I felt compelled to name at least one real song by name. Two, I'm not quite sure exactly what the timeline of offscreen events here is. Apologies, but, the timeline of events is blown to hell, kinda. Zib's plot barely makes temporal sense. And things are almost certainly going to get worse regarding that, I'm afraid. Regardless of that problem, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

* * *

Nico sat on a cherry red leather couch. He leaned forward, a cigarette hanging from his mouth, which added smoke to an already smoky room. With his right hand, he quickly fixed his hair, sweeping it to the side. Nico had been recovering from his relatively minor, yet still painful, injuries over the past couple of days. His stabbed back had been bandaged up, and he’d been taking time to relax. Now he, his sister, and Asa were all together to discuss business again, however.

“So, I can be confident in saying that just throwin’ you at the problem again isn’t gonna make it go away, can’t I?” Asa grumbled.

“Sure,” Nico shrugged.

“I mean, I send you two out _with_ Mordecai, you lose him. I send you to _get_ Mordecai, you get beaten by a damn violinist with a bottle. Are you not a boxer?”

“Not against bottles.”

Asa sighed. “And _you_ apparently didn’t even _bother._ ” Asa gestured to Serafine, lounging back on the same couch as Nico, to his right.

“T’ought it was handled,” Serafine muttered.

“Clearly it wasn’t,” Asa said, raising his voice some. “I don’t know if you two became terrible at your job over this past week, or if you just don’t wanna help Mordecai out, but regardless, you two can’t be doing this anymore.”

“Doin’ what?” Nicodeme asked.

“These jobs.” Asa scoffed. “I’ll try sending you two out to do somethin’ else in a couple days, so if you really just hate Mordecai, then you can stop disappointing me and actually keep contributing. Until then, I’ve got something in mind.” Asa reached over and began rifling through a small stack of papers. Continuing to look at the papers, he added, “Serafine, this involves you.”

“What?” Serafine leaned forward, appearing somewhat intrigued.

“The cops have been making things just hell ‘round here; maybe you’ve noticed. But,” Asa pulled a scrap of paper out from the stack, looking up at Serafine, “they can also make things hell for the other guys.”

Asa stood up, cleared his throat, and walked over to the couch where Serafine sat. “There’s a guy working with the police as of late— name’s Dominic. He’s a federal agent, greyish, older-lookin’. Due to his meddling, I’ve been making sure everyone avoids him like the plague. Cause, as it were, he’s damn good at his job. But if you can innocently tip him off to some… illicit activity down by the café, then maybe we can get some use out of him.” He slipped Serafine the slip of paper. “Head there— to the station. Let Dominic know that you, a completely innocent bystander, have seen some liquor in and around the Little Daisy. Then the long arm of the law can take care of them for us.”

Serafine smirked subtly as she read and memorized the address on the slip of paper. “I like it.” She stood up.

“Do that and I can just about forget that you two have been completely incompetent recently. Okay?”

“Yeah, yeah. C’mon, Nico.” Nico stood up from the couch and the two left the room, heading out of the building towards their car.

It was near sunset. The sun was approaching the horizon, and illuminating the sky in orange and pink. Light began pouring through many of the windows in nearby buildings. Mostly ignoring this, Serafine opened the door to the police station and walked in. Luckily for her, she happened to walk in only moments after Dominic had come back into the building. She approached him, doing her best to seem nervous or lost.

“Sir?” Serafine asked as she approached Dominic. He saw her out of the corner of his eye and turned towards her.

“Yes?” Dom responded.

“You a cop?”

“Well, not exactly.” Dominic shifted his stance. “I work for the Treasury— Bureau of Prohibition.”

Serafine kept from smirking; she’d found him. So easy. “Oh, dat’s good den. Dere’s bootleggers at de café.”

Dom seemed interested. “Where? What café?”

“Lil’ Daisy.”

Dominic paused for a moment, clearing his throat. “What did you see? What happened?”

Serafine had planned for this part while driving here. “Was havin’ lunch dere, and saw dey got dis underground place. Saw all dese bottles and booze. Ran outta dere cause dey was tryna kill me.”

“You said this happened at the Little Daisy Café?”

“Yeah.”

“How long ago was this?”

“Today, jus’ a couple hours ago.”

Dominic hummed in thought for a moment. “You said that there was an underground speakeasy?”

“Yeah, it’s under de café.”

“You saw alcohol, too?”

“Lots.”

“You’re sure of that, miss?”

“Very.”

Dominic put his hand on his neck and sighed. “Alright. Thank you for reporting this. I’ll make sure that something’s done as soon as possible.”

Serafine smiled. “Oh, dat’s good. Good luck, den.”

“Thanks.” Serafine walked out of the station as Dom waved goodbye to her. This new information changed things for Dominic. He could easily be nearing the end of this case. He’d been monitoring the building over these past few days, and the rapid increase of activity was a tad bit suspicious. But if what he was told was true, then this could be an easy success for him.

It was later that evening; the sun had set already, street lights were on up and down the road, and the sky was just about as dark as it was going to get. Dominic set the reports he’d been pouring over down on his desk and stood up. There was just one last thing he needed to reassure himself if he was to go through with what he had in mind. He took a short walk through part of the building and made his way to the holding cell. The alcoholic mess would probably be released the next day. The other guy though, Zibowski; signs weren’t pointing to the same outcome. He seemed to be deep in thought, somewhat hunched over, his head resting on the heel of his hand. As Dom walked over to the cell, it seemed to grab his attention, and he lifted his head up and looked over as his ear turned towards the sound of his footsteps.

“Zib, was it?” Drago asked, stopping, putting his hands together behind his back in a sort of patrolman fashion.

“Yeah, it is,” Zib said.

“Would you be able to answer some questions for me?”

“Is ‘no’ even an option?”

Dom chuckled. “I suppose not, no.”

“Alright then. _Yes,_ I’d love to.” He stood up and shuffled over towards the cell bars.

“Great.” Dom cleared his throat. He’d thought of his questions earlier and was going to more or less just recite them. “Where is it exactly that you say you’re employed?”

“Oh, uh, well I work at a café not too far away— just a ways down the road, really. Speaking of which, I’ve missed a few days of work there in being here.”

“So the name “Little Daisy Café’ is familiar then?”

“Well, that’s where I work. Yeah.”

“When do you play? Time of day, days of the week, months in the year.”

Zib stumbled over his words for a moment. “I play in the evenings with some other guys I work with. It’s usually most nights we play.”

“Where exactly do you play? I’ve been to the café myself, and it doesn’t seem like there’s exactly a space for a whole band.”

“Oh, well, it’s not _that_ large— we play in the, uh, corner, by the window.”

“So what’s the rest of the band doing without you then?”

“Probably struggling to play the songs right. That’s why you should just let me off with, maybe, a warning? If you’d be so kind? I mean, all I—”

“What songs do you play?”

“Well, we play a lot of different songs, actually. Been learning to play Blue Skies recently.”

“Good choice; that’s a good song,” Dominic hummed in approval.

“Not actually too hard to play, fortunately.”

“That’s good to hear. Probably not as good as hearing you play, though.” Dom chuckled, mostly fakely.

“Oh, that’s… yeah,” Zib smiled awkwardly.

“Get a couple drinks, listen to the band play.”

“Yeah, I mean, you could, if only I was back at the café.”

“Maybe. Maybe me and some of these other guys,” Drago gestured at a couple of the officers at the table nearby, who weren’t paying attention, “could make our way down, underground there.”

“You’d have to get— hold on, what are you talking about?”

“Under the café, where all the good stuff happens.”

“I don’t know what you’re talking about. We play in the café. I don’t know anything about any sort of underground bar.”

“I didn’t say anything about a bar.” Dominic shifted his weight onto his other foot.

“I— you were talking about drinks only a second ago.”

“Alright then, Zib.” Dom half-chuckled. “Listen here. I know about what’s going on there at the café. You’re selling drinks down there that my department wouldn’t be a fan of.”

“I don’t know anything about that. If something like that _is_ happening, I can’t provide any information about that.”

“Okay, well, maybe that pin of yours could.” Dom gestured roughly at Zib’s chest.

“Already told you about that— it’s just a favorite suit. Clearly, I’ve been given reason to reconsider, though.”

“Okay, keep your _suit,_ then. If you don’t wanna be cooperative, you by god don’t have to be.”

Zib gritted his teeth. “I don’t know anything more.” Maybe this was the wrong decision for him to be making.

“Alright, then. I believe you, Zib.” Dom stood upright, letting his hands fall to his sides as he stopped putting them behind him. “That was all I had to ask.”

“Oh, good.”

“Yes, I suppose I ought to stop pestering you now. Goodnight, then.”

“Yeah, same to you.” Dominic walked off.

It wasn’t as clear-cut as Dom would have wanted; there was no grand capitulation and admittance of wrongdoing, but it was more than enough for Dominic to investigate a bit more. It could be a bit invasive and hands-on— perhaps even a bit illicit, but if he just got the confession he needed, then all would be righted. Tomorrow he’d stroll down to the titular café, and someone there would give him what he needed to hear. Then it would be all said and done for their operation.


	18. Questions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Freckle's helping Ivy deal with all of the customers in the café. That's when a familiar face lets Freckle know why Zib hasn't shown up to work that past couple of days.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. Apologies for the long hiatus. Or, at least, I think it's been a long hiatus; I haven't been checking the calendar. I've been very distracted this past week, and have been neglecting a lot of things, including writing. But, here we are. This chapter's fun from a dramatic sort of perspective, but I think I have to add that in some ways it's nonsense. Character personalities and general story are a tad dodgy this chapter, but if you're willing to look through that this chapter (and in the next), then we can get back into normality. Except that chapter 20's not gonna be much better. Basically, the story isn't so much grounded in canon stuff anymore. Regardless, it was pretty fun writing this, so I hope that's it's fun reading it as well!

It was midmorning, and Ivy and Freckle were managing the café as patrons came in for a somewhat early lunch, others for some sort of brunch. The two were chatting as they served the patrons as needed.

“So is he okay then?” Freckle asked, glancing over his shoulder as he poured coffee for an older gentleman at one of the booths.

“Yeah, he’ll be okay. His pneumonia’s acting up again, though. I don’t know what compelled him to not only make his way over here or to yell at the top of his broken lungs. And that’s  _ before  _ mentioning their fistfight,” Ivy explained, preparing a sandwich halfway across the kitchen.

“Do you think he’ll need to see a doctor again?” Freckle straightened himself and walked back behind the counter, setting the half-empty pot back onto the counter.

“Probably not. I just need to force him to rest.” Ivy paused for a moment, her sandwich-making hands stopping, too, “Do you think I can weigh him down with enough blankets?”

“Um, I don’t think so.”

“What else could I do, then? Lock his door— here’s your sandwich, miss— from the inside?” Ivy set the sandwich she’d finished making down on the counter in front of a woman.

“How would you do that? Wouldn’t that be dangerous?” Freckle squatted down to retrieve something from a shelf behind the counter.

“How much more dangerous could that be than—” Ivy was cut off as Freckle stood up, knocking into Ivy. He almost dropped a pan he’d grabbed, and Ivy reached out and awkwardly grabbed it by the rim. The two were leaning into each other for a moment.

“Sorry! Sorry,” Freckle apologized, grabbing the pan back from Ivy and backing up, turning to the stove. He placed the aforementioned pan on top of one of the burners.

“Sure, make it seem like an accident. It’s fine if you wanna be forward like that, McMurray.”

“Uh, I’m sorry. It—” The front door swung open, and Freckle trailed off briefly as he looked to it, seeing if it was another customer to look over. Walking through the door was a few individuals; one of which he actually recognized.

The new customers walked over to the counter and two sat down at some empty stools next to each other. The third leaned onto the stool of one of the others, kind of in the middle of the two, behind them. Freckle cracked an egg into the pan he’d pulled out, and he took a couple of steps to the side, over to the three. “Hello, is there anything I can get for you?” Freckle asked in a fashion similar to how Ivy had demonstrated earlier in the day.

“We’d all appreciate a water, if you would,” the middle one, which Freckle recognized as Dominic, the guy from the last few days, asked. Freckle was immediately unnerved as he noticed a distinct outline in his coat. It was subtle, but Freckle clearly recognized that he had a pistol in, presumably, his coat pocket.

“Is that it for now?”

“For now. And, uh, what’s your name, pal? I remember seeing you here the other day.”

“Calvin.”

“Calvin. Well, Calvin, we’d actually like to talk with you a bit.”

“Um, okay, one minute, please.” Freckle walked away a few steps, getting some water for the three.

“Ivy,” Freckle whispered in the direction of Ivy, who was busy putting cash away in the register.

Ivy’s ear turned towards Freckle, and she turned her head. “Yeah?” she half-whispered.

“That guy,” Freckle quietly explained, pointing to Dominic, “has a gun on him.”

“Uh, okay. Don’t upset him too much, I guess.”

“That’s not…” Freckle waved his hand as if to say ‘“forget about it”. He finished with the three glasses of water and brought them back to the customers, and carefully handed them to the men.

“Thanks, Calvin,” Dom said before taking a sip of the water.

“You, uh, wanted to talk with me, you said?”

“Yes, yes. We’d like to talk with you in a moment. As long as you’re free, of course.” The guy on the left of Dom quickly gulped his drink down almost as if he hadn’t had a drink in days.

“Well, I’ve kinda got work to do, actually.” Freckle gestured back at the café.

“I think you can step aside for a little bit, surely.”

“I can talk some as a server, but I’ve still gotta work.”

“I can assure you, it’s important.” Dom leaned in closer, “It’s got something to do with your friend, Zib.” The guy on Drago’s left finished his glass, setting it down on the counter.

“Excuse me,” the guy on the left mumbled before standing up and leaving the café. He quickly disappeared around the corner outside.

“What happened?” Freckle asked, briefly watching the left man leaving, before his eyes darted back to Dominic.

“We can discuss it if you come with us.”

“Come with you? Where?” Freckle was  _ not  _ confident about this.

“We just need to discuss some things, have ourselves a talk, and then you can get back to work. Although, we understand if you’re too busy, Calvin.”

“...How long is it gonna take?” Freckle looked over his shoulder at Ivy, dashing around to deal with customers’ wants.

“Not long, not long at all. Might be able to have ourselves a conversation and bring you back before anyone’s even finished their food.”

“Well, what’s happened with Zib?”

Dominic cleared his throat. “Zib’s gotten himself into a bit of trouble. We’re hoping that you can help us set the record straight.”

“Is that it?”

“That’s it.” Dom set his glass down, having drunk about a third of it, “So, are you free?”

Freckle hesitated. If some random guy had come into the café wanting to talk to Freckle in private, warning about Zib, he wouldn’t even really consider it. But, Zib had, from what he’s seen and heard, basically disappeared these past few days, so maybe there was truth in what Dominic said. And Dom wasn’t some random guy. Well, he was, and perhaps Freckle might have called him that in most other contexts, but Freckle  _ had  _ seen Dom around the past few days. He still wasn’t exactly sure what that meant or why he was here, but it does mean that maybe he did have some sort of connection to this.

Freckle was entirely on the fence. But, if he could get Zib out of whatever vague trouble Dominic had mentioned just by giving some  _ non-incriminating _ information, then Freckle would do it. But, just in case things weren’t as they seemed, and this was just an absolutely stupid idea, Freckle had the pistol he’d been using the past few days nearby. He’d basically been watching over it since Mitzi had given it to him, so he’d been keeping it nearby most of the time. He’d set it under the counter, out of the way of most things. If Freckle was to go with Dominic, he was gonna bring that.

“Alright, sure. Just gimme a moment,” Freckle answered.

“Of course,” Dom smiled, taking another sip of water.

Freckle took a few steps down the length of the counter, over towards Ivy. He reached down under the counter as inconspicuously as he could manage. As he did, he muttered to Ivy, “I’m gonna go talk with those guys for a bit.”

“What? Why?” Ivy wondered.

“Apparently there’s something going on with Zib. Do you need me to keep helping with the café?”

“No, I’m fine. But do you even know those guys?”

“I’ve seen one of them a few times over the past couple of days. Him and Rocky talked the other day.” Freckle stood up, having pocketed the gun.

“Well, if you don’t come back in an hour, I’ll assemble a search party, okay?” Ivy smiled.

“Okay,” Freckle slightly smiled.

Freckle walked back to the two guys, ready as he was going to be to leave. And this was a dumb decision, it still felt like. “Okay, we can head out,” Freckle said.

“Oh, good. Let’s go, then,” Dominic agreed. The three then left the café through the front door, taking a brief walk to a car parked nearby. Dominic and the other guy sat in the front, with Freckle sitting behind Dom. Drago started up the car and began down the street.

Freckle quickly glanced out of the window, looking back towards the café. “What happened to that other guy? Where’d he go?” he asked.

“Ah,” Dom began, “he had some other business to attend to, I’m afraid.”

“Oh, sure.”

Freckle sat silently in the back of the car for a minute or two, unsure if he should back out now. Were they heading somewhere? He couldn’t tell yet. Or were they going to ask him questions here in the car? If it was the latter, then why weren’t they doing that already? Freckle felt in unfamiliar territory in some ways. He wasn’t cut out for making these sorts of decisions on his own. It was different when he was full of adrenaline. Now it was just difficult to make the right move.

After some more thinking about his situation, he peeped up, “Can you tell me more about what’s going on with Zib?”

“Well, I don’t see why not.” Dom turned his head for a moment towards the other guy, “You don’t see anything wrong with it, do you?”

“Nah, go ahead,” he answered.

“Alright then. So, Zib broke a pretty important rule, as it were. He was, well, half-seas over in some alley with some other drunkard, and he got locked up for a bit. But all that’s needed is just some basic information, you know, clear everything up. And then he can be on his merry way back home.”

Freckle pondered that for a second. “Are you… an officer?”

“Me? No, I’m not a police officer. But I’d like to fix this whole wreck,” Dom sniggered.

“Where are we going?” Freckle asked, now a tad more anxious than before.

“Well, to clear things up, we’re gonna go see Zib for a bit.”

Freckle fell back into his seat. Sitting up straight before, perceptive and ready, now he was just fearing the worst, and perhaps even a bit defeated. Things would be alright, he assured himself, but as things were now, this would be a really dangerous thing to be doing. Going to the police station as a murderer and a bootlegger? That couldn’t be smart.

“Calvin, you seem a bit nervous. Is something wrong?” Dominic wondered.

“No, I’m good. Thanks for asking,” he hurriedly replied.

“Alright, well, don’t sweat it. It’s all gonna be sorted soon.” Dominic took a left turn, and Freckle put his right hand down on the seat to resist the inertia of the quick turn. “Ah, and… here we are.” They were now in front of the station. Freckle examined it some as Dominic parked the car. He’d been here briefly before, before Rocky had roped him into all this. Heh, maybe he could get himself back into training if he pulled the right strings.

Once sufficiently parked, the two in the front opened their doors and stepped out. Freckle did the same. The three car doors were closed in quick succession, and the three headed towards the building’s main entrance, climbing up a few steps in the process.

The other man broke off as they walked into the building, going some other way, into some other room. It was now just Dominic who was leading Freckle through the building as if he owned the place. As far as Freckle knew, maybe he damn well  _ did _ own the place. Maybe he knew more about Freckle than he let on. Freckle didn’t really wanna think about that possibility. Of course, that just meant that that was the only thing he could think about as he was led farther into the building.

The two passed from an open sort of area, through some double doors, and then before them was a cell. Inside was someone curled up on the floor and beside him, clear as day, was Zib. He was sat against the wall, his arms wrapped around his knees, seemingly lost in thought. He didn’t look like he was particularly in the best shape.

“Zib,” Dom boomed, quickly getting his attention, “let’s talk some, shall we?” Zib began standing up, pushing off of his knee to get to an upright position. As he did, he noticed Freckle.

“Freckle? What are you doing here?” Zib loudly wondered.

“Helping? I think?” Freckle responded.

“What Calvin’s doing here is helping provide some details pertaining to you and your arrest. Maybe then we can have you back to Blue Skies,” Dom smirked, walking up to the cell. Freckle followed.

Zib looked distraught. “What could he even tell you that would get me released?” he asked.

“Hold on,  _ are _ you an officer?” Freckle added.

“Just have some basic questions for him. You too, Zib. And, no, I’m still not a police officer. I’m just interested in this situation, and I can put an end to Zib’s sentence, granted that you’ll let me,” Dom explained.

“Uh, sure,” Freckle said.

“Great. Now let’s see if we can all figure this situation out. And let me assure the both of you— this won’t take too long, okay?”


	19. Deceived

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic asks Freckle and Zib his questions. Freckle's one-on-one with Drago ends poorly.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So this chapter's been finished for a few days now, but I don't wanna rush chapters, so I've held out on it. It's not a particularly joyous one, I'm afraid. Things'll get better soon, but for now, this is it. I don't want this chapter's note to be suspiciously shorter than the others', but I don't have anything else to say. Enjoy!

Dominic and Freckle were gathered outside of the holding cell, and Zib was stood behind the bars, leaning against them. They were almost loosely huddled together, standing in a circle, or perhaps a triangle. Zib looked rather unconcerned, Freckle looked rather concerned, and Dom looked rather confident.

“Alright then,” Drago grabbed a notepad off of a nearby table and stood ready to take notes, “let me ask the both of you a few things. So let’s start with this, Calvin; what is the Little Daisy?”

Freckle looked confused for a moment. “It’s a… it’s a café. We were just there. That’s where I was working, remember?”

Dominic chuckled. “Yes, I remember. Just a question to make sure we’re on the same page here, okay? Okay then, what are both of your jobs at the Little Daisy?”

“Play saxophone. Same as before,” Zib mumbled.

“I’m a, um, a server there. You saw me do that, too,” Freckle stated.

“Alright,” Dominic muttered, scribbling down notes, “who else works there?”

Freckle began to list out names as he carefully thought about what names to omit. He wasn’t going to mention Horatio, because he wasn’t involved with the café at all, so mentioning him wouldn’t really make sense. “Both of us, um,” Freckle began as Zib gave him a look, “Rocky, Ivy, Viktor, and the, uh, rest of Zib’s band. Rocky’s part of that, actually. Oh, and Mitzi, the owner.” Zib shook his head wearily for a moment. Oh. He probably shouldn’t have mentioned Vitkor, either. He didn’t really have anything to do with the café, either.

“I remember speaking with Rocky. He plays in the band, too?” Dominic looked up after, presumably, writing the names down, to see Freckle.

“Was he— oh, yeah, he plays in the band, too.”

Dominic hummed in response, writing some more down. “So is that everyone who works there?”

“Yeah.”

“Good to know.” Dominic looked up, taking another glance at Freckle before looking back down and scribbling something out, then hurriedly writing something below it. Uh oh. Had he messed up somehow? “So, Mitzi. She’s the owner of the café, you said?”

“Uh huh.” Freckle’s eyes darted back up from Dom’s notepad as he tried to think about what he might have messed up.

“What’s her surname?”

“May.”

“Alright. And just one more thing for the record; both of you, Zib especially, are aware of the laws against alcohol handling and consumption?” Zib looked up from the floor to look at Dom at the mention of his name.

“Yup, got it,” Zib said.

“Yeah, it’s the eighteenth amendment,” Freckle responded.

“Yes, exactly. Good.” Dom took a quick note. “Okay. That’s all I’ve got to ask the two of you. But, um, Calvin, if you’d come into my office for a few minutes. I’ve got just a couple more questions to ask you, if you would.”

Freckle stuttered, “Oh, uh, yeah. Alright.” Zib stood himself upright, at least, more than before, and looked at Freckle, concerned.

“Good, good. Now come in here with me.” Dominic opened a door just off to the side, walking inside. He held the door open as Freckle walked in before pushing it closed, leaving Zib alone in the cell again. Well, as alone as he could get— Vergil was still there with him, even if he’d just been asleep on the floor for the last, well, however long. This whole situation wasn’t great. He was still locked up, indefinitely, and Freckle could be moments away from spilling the beans on the whole bootlegging operation right to the Treasury guy.

Freckle was in a small office— desk, telephone, filing cabinet, et cetera. A small window was open, letting in a light breeze, which put the room at a comfortable temperature. It was actually a rather enjoyable space, and Freckle would have felt peaceful here if it weren’t for the whole questioning thing.

Dominic sat down at the desk, setting his notepad down in front of him. He scooted in and said, “Take a seat, Calvin.” He gestured to a wooden chair sat against the wall opposite him. Freckle obliged, pulling the seat closer towards the desk before taking a seat. The seemingly old chair creaked as he did.

Drago grabbed a manila folder off of a small stack of papers, setting it in front of him, pushing the notepad aside some as he did. He opened it, grabbed the pencil he’d been using to take notes, and readied himself to write. “I hope you don’t mind a few more questions.”

“No, it’s fine, as long as we don’t take too long,” Freckle half-laughed in a fake sort of way.

“Of course. So then, let’s not waste time; where does Zib and his band perform in the Little Daisy?”

Shoot. “Um, they perform, well, usually, at least, sort of in the corner.”

“Well, I’ve been to the building myself— which corner?” He seemed to be itching to write something down.

“Um, it’s the one that’s sort of in the— in the back, to the right.”

“Hmm, alright.” Indeed, he scribbled something down. “Now I’m gonna need you not to lie on this next question, alright? Have you ever seen Zib drink liquor, wine, beer, moonshine, et cetera?”

“No.”

“Good. That’s good to hear.” Dom took notes. “Now, if you would— I spoke with Rocky the other day, if you remember.”

“Yeah.”

“I saw you by the counter, also.” Dominic paused, “Who was the other guy?”

Oh, hell. Mordecai. That was Mordecai. He didn’t mention Mordecai. “That was, uh, that was Viktor. I mentioned him earlier.”

“Viktor, huh?” Dominic looked utterly unconvinced.

“Yup, that was Viktor.”

“What’s his surname?”

Oh, good. He actually had an alibi here; he didn’t know his last name. “Sorry, I don’t know. I haven’t asked him for it.” Freckle felt he looked confident giving that answer.

“Would it happen to be Vasko?”

“Um, maybe. I don’t know.”

“Okay. Well,” Dominic searched through some papers in the folder, eventually pulling out a photograph. “Does the Viktor you know look like this?” Drago turned the photograph around and slid the picture towards Freckle. Freckle picked it up and examined it. It was a mugshot of Viktor, with a bandage over his eye. At the very least, Freckle knew his last name now, but there was no way that Freckle could argue that he looked like Mordecai.

“Uh, what do you mean?”

“I mean that that’s not the person I saw the other day. Who was it really?”

He couldn’t even lie and say it was someone from the band; he didn’t know their names. “...Mordecai.”

Dominic chuckled, smiling, “Okay, now we’ve got something here.” Dom scrawled more down, “Who’s Mordecai?”

He was just going to have to lie, wasn’t he? “He’s… Well, he’s a, uh, he was applying for a job.”

“What position was he applying for?”

“He was gonna be, well, a manager.”

“Well if he was going to be your manager, why lie about his name?”

“I… Well, there’s, um… a—”

Dominic put a stop to his desperate thinking. “I won’t bog you down with that question. Forget about it. Here’s a different question. A day or two after I spoke with Rocky for the first time, you, Rocky, and  _ Mordecai _  were in the garage, if you recall. What was that hatch you three came from?”

He  _ did  _ see them come from that trapdoor. “It’s… Well, it’s storage.”

“Storage? For what?”

“For food. Stuff for the café”

“Uh huh. There were a lot of wooden crates in that garage; completely unmarked. What was in them?”

“Um, it was plates and bowls and all that. Need to buy more after a while, you know?”

“Of course that’s what it was. Let’s stop lying.” Dominic set down his pencil and stood up, pushing his chair back with a shove against his desk. He began walking slowly around the desk towards Freckle. “I got a tip recently that your café is just a front for an underground bootlegging operation, just as I suspected, and I have a hitch that that trapdoor is an entrance to it. Those crates were full of alcohol. Mordecai is one of those employed by it, as must be Viktor. And judging by that gun you have holstered, you must be, too. Even still, you and Zib gave conflicting answers on where the band performs, and after watching the café for a week or so now, I haven’t seen them perform  _ once.  _ I haven’t even  _ seen  _ Zib there. So,” Dominic was now right next to Freckle. He looked down at him, glaring, “would you like to correct your answers, then?”

Freckle sat, mouth agape for a moment. He’d been baiting the two of them this whole time. Damn it. He’d ruined everything. This was the absolute worst case scenario for going with Dominic, and it had happened. He was going to go to jail, and so was everyone else. “You… Yes, I lied! I lied about everything!”

Dominic smirked. “Good.” He walked back to his chair, sat down, picked up his pencil, and pulled the folder closer to himself. “Is there a bootlegging operation at the Little Daisy?”

“Yes, it’s underground.” Freckle felt utterly defeated. He felt himself frowning. It felt like he was little kid about to breakdown because he was getting yelled at.

“How do you get in?”

“That trapdoor. And there’s a hidden switch in the café in the shelves.”

“Interesting. Very clever.” Drago was busy, nonstop writing things down. “What is everyone’s role in the operation? Who have you forgotten to mention?”

“Mitzi leads everything. Me, Rocky, and Viktor get the alcohol. Zib and Rocky and the rest of the band play music for the guests. There’s someone named Horatio that checks guests into the establishment.”

“Hmm, a new name there. But, well, what about Ivy? You mentioned her before.”

“She doesn’t interact with the illegal alcohol at all. She just manages the café.”

“Really?”

“Yes.” It felt like there was little control over what Freckle was admitting, and it seemed like he was admitting it all— even more than he might have needed to, but he quickly stopped himself from incriminating Ivy. That seemed natural. That was the only lie that was important enough, and possible enough, to get away with.

“When is the establishment open to the public?”

“At night. Around when the café closes to almost early in the morning.”

“What’s the name of this operation?”

“They’ve called it Lackadaisy.”

“Oh, so I was right. Very, very interesting. Now, what about Mordecai? You mentioned him earlier.”

“He works for some other place. He’s just being kept there for now.”

“Being kept how? Do you know where he  _ does  _ work?”

“He works for the Marigolds. He got locked in a closet, and now we won’t let him go. He’s a hostage.”

“Ruthless. You know, you don’t give that off, Calvin. And the Marigolds? Hoo, that’s certainly an enemy. And a huge fish to fry.” Dominic set his pencil down and closed the folder after he finished scribbling down one last thing. “Well, here’s something I can help you with.” Freckle looked up at him. “You seem like a nice kid, Calvin. I think you can learn a lot from this, and it seems cruel to lock you up. I think you’ll go out and become an outstanding member of society. I believe you’re better than all this, and I think that you know that as well as I do. So, I’m going to let you go.”

“What?” This was news.

“I’ll let you off the hook. But, just between the two of us, this is all you’ll get. I’m going to go pay a visit to the Lackadaisy tomorrow night, alright? And I don’t wanna see you there. If I see even a  _ drop _ of alcohol, Calvin, I’m going to arrest every living soul on the property. Okay? So, you ought to forget about these people and go off and find yourself a new living. Cause going back, or letting them know, is unlawful. This is between us. No one else can know, or I’ll arrest every person attached to the names you gave. You understand?”

“Yes.” Freckle was lost in thought. This was overwhelming.

“This is just between the two of us. And best of luck for whatever comes next in your life. I hope it’s legal and gainful, both.” Dominic opened the door to his office. He held it open and stood to the side for Freckle leave. Freckle stood up slowly— tired. Freckle shuffled out of the office. Dominic left too, closing the door behind him.

Dominic began to guide Freckle back out of the building. Freckle saw, out of the corner of his eye, Zib trying to lock eyes with him, trying to figure out what happened; the shouting Freckle had done earlier couldn’t have put him at ease. Freckle couldn’t look at him. He felt far too guilty. Freckle kept looking ahead. He’d ruined Zib’s life, among everyone else’s, and it was all his fault.

Dominic and Freckle left the station. Dominic got in the driver’s seat of the car he’d driven in earlier. Freckle got into the passenger’s seat, distracted by his thoughts. Dominic asked for where Freckle lived. Freckle mumbled his address. Dominic drove him there, dropping him off at his house. He gave one final goodbye and then drove off. Freckle felt like he was in a dream as he stumbled into the house and up the stairs. He collapsed onto his bed, face-first. He’d ruined everything. Nothing could be done now. This would be the last however many hours before his cousin and all of his coworkers were arrested. He felt his eyes begin to water.

It was nighttime before Freckle dragged himself off of the bed and out of his room. He lifelessly made his way downstairs and into the kitchen. He was just lucky he hadn’t been stopped and questioned by his mother. Freckle looked around a bit for something to eat. He settled on a few slices of bread. He put them on a plate and made his way back upstairs. He sat the plate down on his bedside table and crumpled back onto his bed. Goodnight.


	20. Goodnight

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky finds Freckle at home and asks him about his disappearance. Freckle has difficulty getting to sleep.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heya! So here's another chapter. It was fun to write, although I think that I might have given Rocky too much big brother energy, but it just felt right to write him like that here. This chapter's not really any less dramatic than the last, but it'll be toned down (mostly) in the next chapter. And let me just add— it's gonna get fun in a couple of chapters. Hope you enjoy it!

Freckle was lying on his bed. It was nearing midnight. He was on his side, half-curled up into a ball. His head rested on his pillow as he stared into nothingness to the side. For what it was worth, he’d managed to eat one of the three slices of bread he’d grabbed, even if that wasn’t really a meal and he had eaten it well into the night, so it wasn’t like he had been doing  _ nothing. _

His thoughts were muddled, though. There was so much he could be pouring over, so much that had happened that was important and pressing, most of which filled him with anxiety and dread, yet he felt essentially just braindead, not thinking about any of that— or even, anything in general. He was emotionally exhausted. Being interrogated was one thing, but basically betraying Rocky and Ivy and everyone else he’d met, relied on, helped, et cetera recently— that was a step up. That had a much more profound impact on Freckle.

Freckle heard steps coming up the stairs. He could tell it was Rocky; he’d gotten used to the way that Rocky walked, which was easily discernible from his mother’s. Rocky had probably just gotten back from Lackadaisy. The steps hastily made their way to Freckle’s room, and the door quickly opened as Rocky stepped in. Freckle didn’t bother to sit up.

“Freckle! Here you are!” Rocky nearly gasped, spotting him on the bed.

“Yeah,” Freckle mumbled.

“Why didn’t you come back to the café? Ivy told me you left with that Dominic guy, and that you said he had a gun. Then you just,” Rocky made exasperated hand gestures, “disappeared!”

“Sorry.”

Rocky sighed, clearly calming down some, his stature even relaxing some. “It’s fine— you didn’t get killed or kidnapped, so… But what happened? Why‘d you disappear? What did Dominic want? Why did he have a gun?

That was a loaded question. Or questions, maybe; they kind of overlapped. Regardless, there was a lot behind that, and most of it Freckle couldn’t and didn’t want to admit to. “Uh, not much. And he dropped me off here, so I didn’t bother going back.”

“Dropped you off _ after what? _ ”

“Asked me some questions.”

“About  _ what? _ ” Rocky continued to press.

“Stuff about Zib. He got caught drinking.”

“Oh… is that why he’s been gone recently?”

“Apparently.” Freckle rolled onto his back, facing up at his ceiling. His left hand was under his head; it was more comfortable. The two were silent for a moment then.

“Well, what happened with Zib? And what did Dominic have to do with it?”

“He’s still in the holding cell in the police station.”

“Did you go to the police station and see him?” Rocky sat at the foot of Freckle’s bed as he continued to ask him questions.

“Yeah.”

“Why did you go to the station? And was Zib alright?”

“Zib was fine.” Freckle really didn’t want to keep answering all of these questions right now. He was tired, and if there was anything he wanted to do with Rocky right now, it wasn’t this.

“Why were you at the police station with Dominic, though?”

“I don’t wanna talk about it right now, Rocky.”

Rocky paused for a moment, looking at Freckle, who didn’t bat an eye at him as he did. “...Are  _ you  _ alright? You seem… unhappy.”

“I’m fine.” Freckle felt his eyes starting to water again. It was a surprise to him, really— it started so suddenly. This could be the last conversation he had with his cousin for a long time, and it was him trying to make his cousin stop talking to him. Freckle tried to blink the burgeoning tears from his eyes. “I’m just tired.”

“Well, if you’re tired, then you should really turn off the light,” Rocky instructed, gesturing to the light switch. If Rocky had noticed Freckle tearing up, he didn’t show it.

“Yeah, I know.”

“And what’s with the nothing sandwich there?” Rocky half-pointed to the two remaining slices of bread on Freckle’s bedside table.

“I don’t know.”

“Alright, well,” Rocky chuckled, “don’t leave that around for too long, or it’ll get moldy, alright?” Rocky stood up from the bed. “Try to actually sleep, instead of just lying there. I’ve got the light.” Rocky switched off the light as he began to make his way out of the room.

Freckle sat up, very quickly wiping the tears from his eyes. “Are you going into the Lackadaisy tomorrow?”

“Uh, well, yeah, I plan on it. It’s my job now.” Rocky stood half in the doorway, holding the door open, which let in some yellow light from the lights Rocky had switched on elsewhere in the house upon coming back.

“I think you should stay home tomorrow. Maybe we can do something.” Maybe he could keep Rocky from going to the trap Freckle had let Dominic set up.

“...I’ll think about it.” Rocky looked at Freckle for a moment, then seemed somewhat confused. “Are you… crying?”

“I got something in my eyes. Dust or lint or something.” Freckle wiped at his eyes again. “But you’ll think about it?”

“Yes, I’ll think about it,” Rocky subtly smiled. “I’ll let you know tomorrow. Goodnight, Freckle.”

“Night,” Freckle muttered before Rocky left the room, gently closing the door behind him as he did.

Freckle lied on his back on top of the covers of his bed in the dark. There was some faint moonlight coming in from his window in between the curtains which just barely illuminated the foot of his bed. Freckle scooted himself under the covers, under which was cool and plenty comfortable. Except for forgetting to change into something for bed, he was completely ready to sleep. He turned onto his side, repositioned himself, and was ready to try to sleep, which he should have been doing already.

An hour, maybe two, had passed now. He’d shifted positions and tried thinking of nothing, or just of certain things, but nothing could get his mind off of the anxiety in the back of his mind from what had happened earlier in the day with Dominic. He had given Dominic information on his friends, and they would be arrested, and it would be Freckle’s fault. It would all be Freckle’s fault.

Freckle had completely disturbed the covers on his bed and was now lying with his head drooping over the foot of the bed, with blood rushing to his head. He adjusted his position and pulled his head back onto the bed as it started to get uncomfortable. Freckle had to face the fact that no matter what position he took on his bed, he wasn’t going to go to sleep. The problem was guilt. He was guilty for ruining his friends. And he hadn’t even done anything to try and remedy what he’d done. He was being traitorous. Freckle slowly sat up on his bed. He would have to do something. What he’d done so far was  _ not _ enough.

Freckle stood up from his bed and left his room. With purpose, he began down the short hall and then down the stairs, although he was sure to be quiet— he didn’t want to wake his mother up this late into the night. He unlocked the front door, now standing before it. He took a breath, exhaling slowly, before opening it and walking outside, closing it behind him.

The air outside was somewhat warm, only a bit warmer than room temperature, although it was rather humid. The moon lit up the landscape, seeming particularly bright tonight. The clouds, maybe as a result, seemed clear and pristine. But Freckle ignored his surroundings as he marched, barefoot, over to Rocky’s car. He peered through the glass, his face up against the car window, and saw Rocky, asleep in the back. He rapped softly against the glass with the back of his hand on his knuckles.

Rocky’s ear perked up, and he raised his head up, looking towards the source of the sound. Once he spotted Freckle, he sat up, rubbing the sleep out of his eyes. He moved over towards the car door and rolled down the window. “Freckle? What is it?”

“I couldn’t sleep.” Freckle paused for a moment. “Ther—”

“Well, I can’t let you sleep out here with me, cuz.”

“No, that’s not it. There’s something I need to tell you. It’s about what happened with Dominic.”

That piqued Rocky’s interest. “What?”

“Dominic is a federal agent. He drove me to the police station and took me into his office. He asked me all sorts of questions, and I… I…” Freckle’s eyes were starting to water again. Freckle was acting too much like a baby— crying every five minutes.

“Freckle, Freckle. It’s alright. What happened? Can you tell me what happened?”

“I told him everything. He said he’s gonna investigate Lackadaisy tomorrow, and he said he was gonna arrest everyone there if he found any alcohol. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to ruin everything, but I had to keep lying, and I wasn’t really d—”

“It’s okay, Freckle. You said he was going to arrest everyone if he found alcohol?”

“Yeah.”

“Alright. Okay. So what does he know about it then?”

“I told him about the hatch in the garage and the secret door in the café. I told him about Mordecai, too. He told me not to tell anyone about what he was gonna do.”

“Well, thank you, Freckle, for telling me. Now, it’s not exactly what I wanted to do, but I’m gonna sort all of this out now.”

“No! He’ll arrest you. Just stay here— don’t go back.”

“Listen, Freckle. It’s all under control. We’ll get it figured out. We’re gonna go back there, and if we’re lucky, we’ll be able to catch Miss M. before she makes it to bed. Then we can all figure something out so that  _ none  _ of us get arrested, okay?”

“I don’t wanna go back.” Freckle had blinked the tears out of his eyes and was emotionally stable again.

“Okay. You can stay home and try to actually get some sleep, okay? I’ll go back and let everyone know and we’ll come up with a plan.”

“Alright.”

“Alright. Good. Now go back to bed! You shouldn’t be staying up this late!”

“Okay. Come back as soon as you’re finished.”

“Can do. Night.”

“Night.” Rocky began to roll the window back up as Freckle made his way back into the house. Once up, Rocky scooted his way into the driver’s seat and started the car up. He was in way over his head now, huh? Rocky turned the headlights on and started down the street. He would be lucky if he got any more sleep that night.


	21. Planning

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky finds himself in the middle of an argument between Viktor and Mordecai as he tries to convey what Freckle told him to the group. The gang then gets to work with what they know and what they have.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! So this is another chapter I've had for a couple of days. My only real points are that, first off, when I described and interpreted the hidden door in the Little Daisy, I kinda took some liberties there and interpreted more complicated than it seems like it actually is in the comic. I did this out of plot convenience and so I might be able to apply my own personal knowledge in said plot convenience. And even then, I'm only a little bit sure that it's not a complete anachronism. Second, this chapter feels a little... flimsy to me, like it isn't really grounded in canon or reality enough to make complete sense. So, if you have any notes on lore, plot, or characters, please, feel free to tell me in the comments; anything and everything is appreciated. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter (this is where things get emotionally better).

Rocky parked his car outside the café and hastily made his way to the garage. He made his way into the establishment through the garage and continued rushing through the tunnels. He could hear voices echoing down the halls. As he approached the storeroom, he could tell exactly who they came from. He turned a corner and saw the storeroom door. In front of it was Viktor, who was yelling through it at Mordecai. That was just great. Mitzi was stood to the side, watching and waiting to see if she could split them apart. She clearly wanted to finish this up and get back to the establishment. At this time of night, there would probably only be stragglers left.

“That doesn’t mean anything!” Viktor shouted at the door.

“I beg to differ,” Mordecai’s muffled voice came from behind the door.

“You’re lucky I’m injured. I should come in there and break you.”

“You couldn’t do anything of the sort even if you _weren’t_ injured.”

“The only reason I didn’t kill you before vas because of your pistol. If I came in there now I’d destroy you.”

“Not with the holes in your chest.”

Rocky snapped back to attention as he stopped paying attention to their argument. He shuffled his way past Viktor over to Mitzi. Her eyes darted over to the movement and she noticed Rocky there.

“What are you doing back here?” Mitzi asked, being partially drowned out by the continued yelling.

“I’ve gotta tell you all something,” Rocky raised his voice.

“Hold on a minute, sweetheart.” Mitzi took a step towards the storeroom, “You two, cut it out!”

“So getting kidnapped takes skill?” Viktor continued, completely ignoring Mitzi.

“So must getting shot, then?” Mordecai retorted.

“Boys! Stop it already!” Mitzi shouted.

“Bring that up again and I shoot you through the door,” Viktor warned.

“Revenge, then? Is that your only goal?” Mordecai wondered.

“Viktor, Mordecai— stop arguing!” Mitzi added to the cacophony of voices. This wasn’t working.

“We’re all gonna get arrested tomorrow!” Rocky yelled. That shut everyone up. Mitzi and Viktor both turned around to look at Rocky and the shouting match had ceased.

“Vhat?” Viktor asked.

“Dominic, the guy who’s been hanging around here the past week, found out about Lackadaisy and is gonna come investigate tomorrow. He’s a federal agent. And he said he was gonna arrest everyone if he found any alcohol when he investigated,” Rocky explained.

“... How do you know this?” Mitzi wondered.

“Uh, well, Freckle told me. He was with Dominic earlier today.”

“Well, so then what? How are we supposed to stop the Feds?”

“Well, I, um, don’t really know.”

Mitzi sat down on some crates that were still just sitting around the storeroom. “So the Feds know all about this place?”

“Yeah.”

“So what can we even do? If the Feds already know about all this, what could we even do to keep ourselves out of jail and this place under wraps?”

“Vhat? Don’t be so negative.” Viktor said, “Vhat else does Dominic know?”

“He knows about the entrance in the garage and the entrance in the café. And uh, he knows about Mordecai,” Rocky continued.

“Knows what about me?” Mordecai asked.

“Uh, I guess that you exist. Probably that you’re a Marigold, too.”

“Well, that’s not good,” Mitzi added. “So this guy knows all about this place, knows how to get in, and that we’re housing someone from a _different_ speakeasy.”

“Yeah,” Rocky reaffirmed.

“So what do we do then? Board up all the entrances?” Mitzi facetiously suggested.

“Well, that’s not a terrible idea. What if we closed off the entrances? Freckle said he’d start arresting if he found alcohol. He can’t find alcohol if there’s no way down here, right?”

“...Ya. Makes sense. Could vork,” Viktor nodded.

“Well, how are we supposed to do to close them off?” Mitzi continued.

“Close secret door from the inside; nail or glue the hatch shut.”

“Okay, well, do you think you can disengage the mechanism? If it moves or gives at all, then it’ll be obvious.”

“I could help with that,” Mordecai suggested.

“How can we trust you? You work for our rivals, remember?”

“It’s not like I have anything else to do. And more importantly, if they arrest you all, they’ll surely arrest me, too.”

Mitzi stood up. “Alright, then maybe this will work. I can ma—”

“But what do we do about Mordecai once we’re done?” Rocky glanced over towards the storeroom door.

The other two followed Rocky’s gaze and looked to the door as if Mordecai would just be standing there, giving some sort of clue. “What do you mean?” Mordecai questioned.

“Yeah, what are you talking about?” Mitzi wondered.

“Well, if we close off the entrances, then he’ll be locked down here until we reopen everything. Mordecai could be locked down here by himself the whole day. And if we need to keep it closed for longer, then he could be down here for days,” Rocky explained.

“Ah, I see. Yes, what about me?” Mordecai asked.

“Well, we’re not gonna just let you go. Sorry to disappoint you if you thought that. So, well, you’d have to stay somewhere else,” Mitzi thought.

“I vill keep him,” Viktor stated.

“Uh, I’m not sure that’s a good idea, Viktor.” Mitzi said, “Rocky, maybe you could watch him for the time being?”

“Uh, yeah, I could do that,” Rocky agreed.

“Good. Just make sure he doesn’t run off.”

“Alright.”

“You know, I don’t exactly appreciate being treated like a rowdy pet,” Mordecai grumbled.

“Well, I’ll court the last few people out of here, and then you three get to work, okay?” Mitzi instructed, ignoring Mordecai, “Just make sure you don’t lock yourselves down here.” The two boys nodded in agreement before Mitzi turned and went to go do as she said. She stopped for a moment and added, “And make sure you three bring all those crates of booze still in the garage down here. Don’t leave anything up there.” She then disappeared down the hall.

 Viktor began towards the garage. Viktor turned and said, “Help vith the crates vhen you’re done vith the door.”

“Got it,” Rocky smiled. Viktor turned back to where he was walking and walked behind a corner. Rocky waited a moment, collecting himself and his plans before he walked over towards the storeroom door. He took the key that was now just regularly left sitting on top of the lock and unlocked the door. After a moment, he set the key back where it was and pulled open the door, revealing Mordecai.

“So, how has your night been?” Rocky asked.

“It most certainly could have been better. But I’m not exactly in a position to decide such a thing,” Mordecai quipped, grabbing something off of one of the shelves inside the storeroom. The two started towards the door they were going to lock shut.

“I guess not.”

“It’s Viktor. I don’t see why he needs to drag himself here just to sling insults and feel in the right.” Mordecai kept looking ahead, not even batting an eye towards Rocky, although he did talk with his hands a bit, gesturing somewhat angrily. “But I shouldn’t talk about it now.”

“Well, if you want to, you can.”

“No, I’m fine. Forget I even started talking about it.”

The two made their way into the establishment and waited for a couple of minutes as they waited for the last few stragglers to clear out through the very door they planned to block up. As they waited, the two sat at stools by the bar and conversed— something about drinking. Once they had all left, as had Mitzi, they got up and climbed the stairs. Once they made it to the door, Mordecai got to work. He was inspecting the mechanisms that made the door work, carefully looking into it, as well as pulling out some removable panel, which let him get a good look at it all. After seeing all of it and putting the panel back, he pulled out a couple of small tools and began disabling it.

“Hey, where’d you get those from?” Rocky wondered.

“I brought them with me when I first gave this place a visit, when I was kidnapped. I would have picked my way out of that storeroom if I was able to reach the locks from the inside.”

“Well, I guess as long as you know what you’re doing.” Rocky rubbed the back of his neck as he stood over Mordecai, who had dropped to one knee and was making quick work of the door.

“Of course I know what I’m doing. This type of lock would normally be a terrible pain, but with the goal of keeping the door locked, it works perfectly. I just need to pick it and get these wafers to drop into the construction keying holes, then it can’t be opened non-destructively.”

“Oh, yeah, of course. That’s obvious now.” Rocky elbowed Mordecai’s shoulder.

Mordecai continued working, and after only a few moments, Mordecai stood up with a sigh, putting away his tools. “It should be completely locked, then.” Rocky reached out to the latch that usually opened the door and gave it a pull. Attempting to open the door didn’t work, and it stayed completely locked. It didn’t even budge.

“Well, well, well. Good work there, Mordecai.”

“Thank you.”

“But, now we’ve gotta help Viktor get those crates downstairs.”

The two made their way back down the stairs and through the length of tunnels. Rocky was sure to turn off the lights he passed by as they made their way over. Then they went back up some more stairs and into the garage. Viktor was gathering some things together as he noticed the two enter.

Together, Mordecai and Rocky brought the remaining few crates down the stairs and into the tunnels. They were stacked up in a small sort of cove to the side of the straightaway, which was a bit less than a hundred yards down the hall. Rocky managed alright, having had to move some of these exact crates not too long ago. Mordecai had difficulty in moving the relatively heavy crates while also not messing up his clothes. But he figured it out quickly and contributed in relocating the alcohol.

Once all of the crates were moved, the two boys took a break, sitting on some non-illicit boxes sitting against one of the walls. Viktor made his way over to the hatch and began to lock it closed. Rocky wasn’t really paying attention, but by the time he looked over, Viktor had managed to get it shut. Viktor tried to pull it open, but couldn’t get a good grip, nor could he open it— not even an inch. With that, Viktor put his tools away and walked over to one of the cars parked in the garage. Mordecai and Rocky watched on with curiosity. Without a word, Viktor got into the driver’s seat and drove the car closer to the corner where the hatch was. He leaned his head out of the window and instructed, “Move those out of the vay.” He pointed at the few boxes that were in the corner. With a sigh, Rocky got up and complied.

Once those few boxes had been moved, Viktor reversed over the hatch and into the corner, although he was careful to avoid a collision with the wall. Now, the hatch had a parked car above it, and it was obvious what Viktor had been trying to do.

“It’s closed now,” Viktor stated.

“Are you gonna be able to reopen it when this is all done with?” Rocky asked.

“Ya. Can be done.”

With that, it was done; the speakeasy had been locked shut. The three cleared out of the garage, and Viktor made sure to lock the garage up. Viktor made his way around the corner and went off wherever he was going. And so, they could leave.

The darkness of night was now starting to, unfortunately, give way to the beginning of dusk. The sky was turning from pitch black to a sort of twilight, with the sun behind the horizon, yet with it clearly approaching sunrise. Rocky could even hear birds, which meant that they had clearly taken too long and were going to sleep horribly.

“Well, let’s figure out what to do with you, then. And maybe if we’re lucky, both of us can actually get a bit of sleep,” Rocky yawned, turning away from the sky to Mordecai. This was going to be a long day.


	22. Favor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky finds a place for Mordecai to sleep. Freckle has opinions and thoughts. No one gets much sleep in the end.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Howdy. This chapter's going up kinda quickly, but I'm not really gonna have too much of a chance to upload it tomorrow, and it's finished now, so I'm just going to give in to my impatience and upload it now. It's still in my schedule, so, whatever. Anyway. This chapter doesn't have too much happen, but it's something that I had to write through, so. Also, in case you didn't see me yell about it on my Tumblr— I forgot about some of the pages in the comic. Namely, Zib gets moved to a city jail. So. I'm just gonna tie that into the "mutated canon" and say that that doesn't happen. We can all just agree that that's fine, right? Also, this story now has more words than my entire NITW series. I didn't expect to write this much when I first started. The story's starting to get a bit long, but I still have at least ten more chapters to write, maybe fifteen. I just hope I stop short before I end up with forty chapters. Well, anyway, here you go. Hope you enjoy!

“Okay,” Rocky yawned, “let’s try and get some sleep before the sun rises. What do you think?” Rocky looked briefly to his right, to Mordecai in the passenger seat of his car.

“That would be nice,” Mordecai muttered.

“Alright then. Only hitch is that I don’t really have anywhere for you to sleep.”

Mordecai sighed. “I’ve been sleeping on a cold, hard floor for the past few days— anything you have will suffice.”

“No, I mean, I have nothing to offer. I sleep back there.” Rocky pointed to the back seat with his thumb. Mordecai looked back for a moment. His immediate thoughts were annoyance at the messy state of things back there.

“Oh. Is there somewhere else?”

“Well, I can’t just let you off somewhere for you to sleep alone; Miss M. would kill me if she knew I did that. And I don’t exactly trust you to not, just, leave in the middle of the night. So options are limited.”

Rocky probably was right in that regard; Mordecai probably would just leave if he was given the option. “Well? Do you actually have any ideas?”

“I do have something… but I’m not sure how he’d feel about it.”

“Who?”

After a minute or two more of driving, Rocky parked the car outside of his aunt’s house. He stepped out and went around the car, opening the door for Mordecai.

“I’m capable of opening a door myself, you know.” Mordecai grumbled, “Anyway, whose house is this? It’s certainly not yours.”

“It’s my aunt’s. Freckle’s living here. Here’s what I’ve got in mind— I’ll sleep in my car, and I’ll have you sleep in Freckle’s room. Freckle’s probably not gonna be happy, but there’s not really anywhere else for you to sleep, so hopefully, he’ll understand. That way I’m not just leaving you alone. But, we’re going to have to leave pretty early, cause my aunt can’t find out that you’re there, so I’ll probably go inside and wake you up not long after the sun rises. Okay?” Rocky explained, leaning on his car.

“Uh, sure.” Mordecai was only moderately paying attention. He was tired and didn’t much care about the specifics of Rocky’s plan. He’d sleep in the house and would wake up early, sure.

“Alright then, let’s go. And be quiet.” The two then began towards the house. Rocky carefully opened the front door, which squeaked open— right on cue. Rocky guided Mordecai up the stairs, cringing every time one of those old stairs creaked with the weight of a step. But, luckily, the two managed to make their way upstairs. Rocky stopped outside of Freckle’s door.

“Hold on a second,” Rocky turned and whispered to Mordecai as he knocked quietly against the door before stepping in.

Freckle shifted in his bed and sat up slowly. “Rocky?” Freckle mumbled, rubbing his eyes, “What’s going on?”

“Well, I’ve got a favor to ask of you, Freckle, alright?”

“What is it?”

“Alright. So, I’ve fixed everything up at the Lackadaisy, okay? Everything you were worried about? It’s fine now, okay? But… I’m gonna need just one thing from you tonight and we can put this whole thing behind us.”

“What is it?” Rocky had yet to answer his question.

“...Would it be okay if someone slept in here with you tonight? Just for tonight. And they’re probably gonna leave before you even wake up.”

“Who?”

Rocky bit his lip and grimaced, “Mordecai?”

“Mordecai? Why does he need to sleep with me?”

“Not— not  _ with  _ you. That… No, sleeping, just, on the floor or something. I can’t have him sleep in the car with me, cause he could run off, and I need someone to at least be in the same  _ room  _ as him so that he doesn’t run off. If you just let him sleep here and keep in mind that he’s here and not supposed to leave, that would really put me at ease and would make it really easy to get through the rest of the night. And, again, it’s just for the night.”

“He doesn’t have… weapons or anything?”

“No. He has lockpicking tools, I think? No, those aren’t weapons.”

“Well, do you think you could take them from him anyways? I don’t wanna get stabbed while I’m sleeping.”

“Yeah, yeah, okay.” Rocky began to pull back through the doorway into the hall, but stopped and looked back at Freckle. “Thanks, by the way. I appreciate it.”

“No problem,” Freckle replied as Rocky pulled back into the hallway.

Rocky stepped to the side and turned to speak to Mordecai. “So?” Mordecai asked.

“Well, it’s gonna work out. I’m just gonna take your lockpicking tools for now, cause Freckle’s nervous about them,” Rocky explained.

“Ugh. Sure.” Mordecai dug into his pockets and retrieved a couple of small tools. Rocky held out his hand and Mordecai placed them into his palm.

“Alright. Come here, then.” Rocky led Mordecai into Freckle’s room. Freckle seemed to be staring at Mordecai as soon as Freckle noticed him come in.

Rocky spoke. “Okay, so, is there anywhere specific you want Mordecai to sleep?”

“On the floor is fine,” Freckle answered.

“Alright. Do you want a pillow or blanket or something, Mordecai?” Rocky asked as Mordecai surveyed the floor and judged an area to sleep on.

“Oh,” Mordecai snapped to attention, “well, it would be nice to have.”

“There’s one on the floor in the closet there. Help yourself,” Freckle said. His comment seemed to be laden with contempt that Mordecai picked up on and immediately remembered that he wasn’t the biggest fan of Freckle. Mordecai opened said closet and reached down, grabbing a small, dusty pillow off of the floor.

“Well, that’s sorted then. I’m gonna go pass out now, if you don’t mind. Night, both of you.” Rocky shuffled out of the bedroom.

“Night, Rocky,” Freckle responded. The door was carefully closed by Rocky as he finished speaking.

Mordecai got down onto the floor and got comfortable, resting his head onto the cool pillow. He shifted around some before quickly falling asleep, despite the hard floor or lack of blankets or sheets. But, it was certainly better than his sleeping conditions over the past however many days, and he was arguably more tired than he had been in any of the previous days in captivity.

Freckle lied back down and was tired enough that he could probably fall asleep again, but he didn’t. Not yet. Instead, he kept an eye on Mordecai.

Mordecai wasn’t really a good guy. He’d heard about what he’d done. He hadn’t exactly been a force of good to other people, nor had he been one to Viktor. He was cold and emotionless. Mordecai was psychopathic and violent. Freckle didn’t really like thinking about him. Not only did he have reasons to be afraid of him, but he was afraid of being him. Freckle was a few years and a few murders away from maybe being like Mordecai, and that was entirely unnerving, disheartening, even. Freckle did his best to challenge the idea that he was like Mordecai, but it felt too true. He remembered some of the things he’d already done since Ivy invited him to the Lackadaisy, and it sent a shiver up his spine. From where he was sitting, it just seemed like he was a slightly younger Mordecai. He didn’t want to have anything to do with Mordecai. He didn’t want to be similar to him, nor did he want to really be sharing a room with him.

Not to mention, Mordecai was getting his cousin to fall in love with him. Rocky had already admitted to Freckle that he had feelings for Mordecai. And it showed in how Rocky talked about Mordecai, and how Rocky talked  _ to  _ him. Rocky was closer to Mordecai than he reasonably should be. And now, here he was. The guy who had killed people and had disabled Viktor and had stolen from his old friends and had gotten his cousin’s attention was sleeping on the floor in his room, less than ten feet away from him. He couldn’t even really state his exact feelings about Mordecai. He had a strange resentment, distrust, and disgust for him that he couldn’t exactly put into to word in his mind.

Freckle had to ignore his instincts to curse Mordecai out or to argue with him and try and show him that he was an awful person— so he could clearly distance himself from the things that Mordecai had done and the kind of person that Mordecai was. He even thought about, and quickly blocked out the thought of, maybe even using this opportunity to get rid of Mordecai. But he ignored all of the impulses he had. Mordecai was awful, sure, but he had to just suffer through this and surely things would be alright soon. So, Freckle’s thoughts started to drift away from scornfully looking down upon Mordecai, and before long he had fallen asleep, having simply stopped worrying about all of that.

Mordecai woke up to Rocky, on one knee, over him, quietly shaking him awake. He opened his eyes saw the sun coming through the window. It shined directly into his eyes. Rocky blocked some of it. He had stopped shaking Mordecai awake, but left his left hand on his shoulder, as if offering some sort of support. Mordecai felt around on the floor for his glasses and once he found them, he sat up. Rocky pulled his hand back and Mordecai rubbed the sleep out of his eyes before putting his glasses on.

“Let’s go,” Rocky whispered.

“Mhm,” Mordecai mumbled. Rocky stood up and offered his hand out, for Mordecai to pull himself to his feet. Mordecai yawned and grabbed it. He stumbled to his feet and slipped said feet into his shoes, which had also been set to the side.

Rocky set the pillow Mordecai had used back into the closet as Mordecai woke up and readied himself. Then, the two quietly left Freckle’s room. They quietly, yet quickly, descended the stairs and left through the front door.

Outside was nice. The sun wasn’t far above the horizon, and all of the birds were already chirping just about as loudly as all of them could. The sky was rather clear, which may have contributed to the somewhat warm, humid air. It had been a while since Mordecai had both woken up this early and actually appreciated the environment around him. Usually, when he had to wake up this early, he had little to no time to do such things.

The two hastily got into the car, although waited for a moment or two as they both got themselves together. “You know, your hair is a mess,” Rocky joked. Mordecai seemed unamused, although his hair  _ was  _ a mess.

“Yours isn’t much better.”

“Oh, hold on.” Rocky adjusted his position and tried to see himself in the reflection off of Mordecai’s glasses. He began to fix his hair before Mordecai pushed up his glasses.

“So, back to the café then?”

Rocky stopped trying to fix his hair and grabbed the steering wheel. “No, I don’t think so. I mean, Dominic knows all about how you work for the Marigolds, so I’m not sure it’s a good idea to flaunt you about there. Besides, I rang Miss M. before I woke you up, and there’ll be enough hands there without us. She doesn’t think we should show up, either. So…” Rocky started the car, “I was thinking we go get breakfast, maybe?” Rocky turned back to face Mordecai and gauge his reaction.

Mordecai hadn’t really been having breakfast over the past few days, and some proper, prepared breakfast sounded rather pleasant. “That’s not a bad idea.”

“Alright then. Let me know if you have any places in mind or you see someplace good.” Rocky began to drive down the road and towards the city. At the very least, Mordecai might get to be out and about for a while— a clear luxury as of the last few days. Today could be nice.


	23. Brunch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Dominic and his gang arrive on the scene and work to uncover the truth. The employees don't make it easy for them.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello! Sorry for the long hiatus! I was out of town for almost a week, and while I tried to write some while away, I didn't get much actually done. And then a lot happened when I got back. Not to mention, I was also just a bit lazy, so. Regardless, the chapter's done, so all of that is sorted. This one's kinda fun. But, it's not as fun as the next two chapters are going to be. I'm excited about these! Maybe that means I'll actually write and upload them at some sort of regular interval or schedule. Anyway, here's the chapter! Hope you enjoy it!

Viktor was in the garage, doing his best to seem busy. He was working on something on the underside of the car he had parked over the hatch in the garage. It was partially to keep anyone from seeing or getting to the hatch, but it was also partly because there was actually something that needed to be worked on. He’d just about given up on the whole ‘relaxing and recovering at home’ thing and was back to work as usual at this point. Ivy thought that he was fine as long as he didn’t do anything too violent or strenuous, such as fist-fighting Mordecai again, so he had the required blessing. Meanwhile, Mitzi and Ivy were working in the café, serving customers and such. Mitzi didn’t really need to be there; Ivy could handle things by herself, but Mitzi wanted to hang around and make sure things went well. Help Ivy out with the café, but also make sure she didn’t slip up regarding Dominic.

It was a bit before noon when Dominic and some other officers showed up. They were all dressed nicely, and nothing about them seemed to give away that they were basically undercover cops. Dominic was leading the charge, so to speak. He sat with the others at an unoccupied booth and pretended to be occupied amongst themselves, although their occasional sideways glances at Mitzi and Ivy showed that they clearly weren’t. To be fair, Mitzi and Ivy were doing the same. Both were suspicious and watching the other, but both pretended they weren’t.

It wasn’t until Mitzi finished serving someone at the counter that she swung around to the booth with some menus. She dispersed them and began to speak with the group.

“Hello! How is everyone doing today?” Mitzi asked, pleasantly. This was it. It was showtime.

“Good, good,” Dominic answered for the four sat at the table.

“Well, that’s good to hear. My name’s Mitzi, and I’ll be helpin’ y’all out today. Would you like something to drink?”

“Just wa—”

“A lemonade?” the guy across from Dominic interrupted. Dominic paused for a moment, then deflated a tad, before just pointing to the guy next to him.

“Oh, uh, just a coffee, dear,” he responded.

“Tea,” the next said.

“Water,” Dominic answered with a sigh.

“Alright, I'll be back with those in a minute," Mitzi smiled. She walked behind the counter and began to get together the various drinks. Nothing wrong so far.

As she gathered together the drinks, she occasionally eyed the table, watching the men and seeing if she could overhear their conversation. They didn’t really seem to be saying anything, although they seemed to notice her gaze.

Mitzi started setting the glasses down on the table. As she did, she asked, “So, do any of y’all need more time to decide on something to eat?”

“I think we’re ready,” Dominic responded, looking down into the menu.

The four proceeded to order various foods. Dominic ordering a sandwich and grits, while the other three each ordered some sort of breakfast food. Mitzi took their orders and was about to go back behind the counter and get them together when Dominic spoke.

"You're not too busy, right? You wouldn't mind talking with us for just a minute or two, would you?" Dom smiled.

Mitzi replied, trying to get out of that, "Well, lots of breakfast folks are still here, and lunch people are here now, so it's—"

"Come on now, don't be shy. We've got a lot we'd like to talk to you about." Dom smirked smugly.

Mitzi thought for a quick second. She would prefer to interact with Dominic and his lackeys as little as possible, but if she did that, it was possible that it could backfire and they could use it to their advantage. They could cite it as evidence that she was hiding something, or as an opportunity to search around for clues of alcohol pedaling. She didn’t really have any idea as to what extent these people were sleazy or what to watch out for, so she had no clue if that was a real danger. Also, if she didn't talk to them, they'd probably rope Ivy into talking with them, and while she trusted and appreciated Ivy, she'd prefer her handling this over Ivy. So, she passed on the table’s order to Ivy, letting Ivy know to prepare it for her, and then she went back over to Drago's table.

Viktor was lying under the car, tools peeking out from the underside of the car. The garage door was open, letting in a light breeze. While keeping the garage door shut would be a surefire way of preventing anyone from snooping in the garage, when it was closed it got warm in the garage  _ quickly.  _ Fresh air was also just nice, but that wasn't really here nor there. Besides, Viktor was sure that no one was going to get past him; no one was going to figure anything out that Viktor didn’t want them to.

And speak of the devil. A small platoon of rather conspicuous, aimless guys strolled around towards the opening to the garage. Viktor leaned his head to the side and watched them as they approached. They stood apprehensively outside, quietly discussing with each other for a moment before walking into the garage, not noticing Viktor under the car. Judging by their sheepishness, Viktor thought it would be easy to simply intimidate them out of the garage.

“Vhat are you doing?” Viktor asked, raising his voice as he slid out from under the car. The men were startled, one of them physically jumping.

“Just looking,” one of them said, almost instinctively.

“Looking? At vhat?” Viktor stood up, brandishing a heavy metal tool as he did. He made sure that the intruders knew that he had it. He walked a bit closer to them.

“Just, uh…”

“At this garage!” another jumped in.

“It’s a nice garage,” the third uneasily smiled.

“Sure. This is private property,” Viktor stated.

“Oh! Is that so?” the second responded.

“Ya,” Viktor grunted.

“Well, you can see how we made such a mistake, you having the door open and all. Not to mention, it’s such a nice garage here— we could have easily mistaken it for a park!” the second explained.

Viktor wasn’t amused, nor remotely convinced by their argument. “Vell, you looked. Now go,” Viktor commanded.

“O—okay!” the first replied, beginning to rush out back through the way they came. The second, continuing to stare Viktor down, grabbed them by their collar and pulled them back into the conversation.

“Well, we’d really like to look around some more, Viktor. What do you think?” the second asked with a slight smirk.

Viktor was thrown off for a second. They knew his name? It wasn’t totally unbelievable, given their occupation, but Viktor hadn’t anticipated that. “No.”

“Well, perhaps we could just have a nice conversation? Perhaps talking about what work you’re doing on your car there?” the second gestured to the car.

“No.” Viktor noticed the third looking intently around the garage, pausing to look at every box or crate in the garage. He also seemed to be interested in the car. It could just be that they were desperately trying to find something, or they could have already caught on. Either way, these people had to leave.

“Oh, come on. Is an open garage door not an invitation to polite conversation?” The third person tapped the second on the shoulder and somewhat subtly pointed to a box in the corner. Viktor knew for a fact that it just contained cans of food. They didn’t know anything.

“It’s not. Leave.”

“I think we should leave. He seems dangerous,” the first whispered to the second. It was loud enough for Viktor to pick up on.

“No. We need to figure this out or Dom’ll have our heads,” the second quickly whispered back. “Why not, Viktor? What’s keeping you?” He spoke at a normal talking volume again.

“Cause I am busy. And this is private. And I don’t vant you here. Now leave,” Viktor spoke with agency, secretly revelling in how he was simply undoing the first person.

The first guy tapped on the shoulder of the second. The second’s shoulders slumped and he sighed. “I suppose we shouldn’t impede, then. Sorry for the intrusion.” He continued to look over at the crate of food.

“Go,” Viktor demanded.

“Yes, of course. Goodbye!” the second waved as the first just about dragged them out of the garage. The third followed behind. Within a few moments, all three had left the garage and disappeared from Viktor’s sight. Well, that was even easier than Viktor had originally thought.

“So, how are you doing today? Mitzi, was it?” Dom asked as Mitzi stood by the table.

“Yeah, Mitzi. I’m doin’ well today. And what was your name, hun? I don’t think I caught it,” Mitzi responded.

“Dominic. Feel free to call me Dom.” He reached out his hand for a handshake. Mitzi did just that, shaking his hand. Mitzi had to admit, he had a sort of pleasant, friendly way about him.

“Alright then, Dom; what was it you wanted to talk about?”

“Oh, well, I just wanted you to ask about this business of yours. It’s a great place, let me just say.”

“Thank you. What did you wanna ask?” This is what Mitzi had to steel herself for.

“Well, I’ve heard that there’s a band that plays here. Where do they play?”

“Oh, they play wherever there’s space in here. Whatever works for them and isn’t in the way.” Judging by the look on Dom’s face, Mitzi may have said something that discouraged him; he didn’t look nearly as confident now.

“Sure, sure. What’s that garage used for?”

“Cars. And some things that we need for the café.”

“What’s that Viktor fellow’s story? Does he work for you?”

And now it was certainly starting to feel like an interrogation. And if Dom was working with the police, then surely he knew about Viktor’s past run-ins with the law, so she couldn’t lie about that and get it past him. “My late husband helped him out when Viktor was younger— helped him sort out some delinquency of his. He felt indebted to my husband for what he’d done and, well, Viktor applied for a job here. He’s been here a few years, now.” Mitzi tried not to think too much about some of the things she had just said.

“If you don’t mind me asking, what does Viktor do around here? Personally, I haven’t seen him around.”

Mitzi cleared her throat to give her just another moment to scrap together a lie. “Well, he helps out with stocking and unloading shipments of cans and the like. He’s been dealin’ with a recent injury, though, and has been taking time off to recover. Lord knows he deserves it— he works himself to death sometimes.”

Dom tried not to look disappointed again. “Ah, I see. Where are the other employees that work here, though? I’ve spoken with a few of them. Rocky, Calvin— where are they today?”

“Well, Rocky isn’t set to come in today. And as for the latter, he called in sick today, so we’re a bit short on manpower. But you don’t need to worry about that, Dom.”

Dominic subtly smiled. “Alright, I won’t. But what about the other guy? The dark guy in the suit? What’s his—” Ivy stumbled a bit and dropped a plate onto the ground, resulting in several turned heads, including Mitzi.

“Excuse me for a moment,” Mitzi said.

“I’m just curious as to—”

“I’ll just be a moment.” Mitzi walked off, back behind the counter to go help with the broken plate. Mitzi felt relieved. It sounded like Dom was about to ask about Mordecai, which wasn’t something Mitzi felt like diving into and explaining away right now. Ivy had practically saved Mitzi with that plate. Mitzi would have to remember to thank her for breaking that plate later.

Mitzi had told Ivy to keep working on the food as Mitzi cleaned up the ceramic shards. And by the time she had collected and disposed of all of them, Ivy had finished Dominic’s table’s meals. Mitzi carefully grabbed the plates and walked them over to the table, setting them down in front of their respective orderers.

“Sorry about that, y’all. But how’s everything looking?” Mitzi asked in an overly friendly, hospitable voice. Everyone murmured approval over each other in a quiet sort of amalgamation of voices. Mitzi waited until Dominic had a mouthful of food and then, “Good. And Dom, was there anything else you wanted to ask about?”

Dominic looked annoyed, an apparently common occurrence, and quickly swallowed his food. “No, it’s fine. We’re good. Thank you, Mitzi.”

Mitzi walked off with a genuine smile. She was done and seemed to pass whatever test Dominic was trying to catch her with. Mitzi was sure to give Ivy those thanks.

Not too long after they had started eating, they had finished. Dominic paid for the group’s meals and all of them left. The other three seemed happy with their food and were either unaware or didn’t care about Mitzi or any sort of investigation. Dominic, however, just looked annoyed— disgruntled. And without any sort of ado, they walked out of the café and drove away. Mitzi breathed a sigh of relief. That was that done with.


	24. Diner

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky and Mordecai have some breakfast as they stay away from the investigation at the Little Daisy. It's a pleasant time.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Heyo. Sorry that this chapter's a bit late. If you saw, I complained about it yesterday— Windows wanted to restart when I was about to write. Regardless, my main comment is that a diner in the Midwest in the 1920s is probably a bit of an anachronism, but a diner just fits this chapter so very well. Also, the character's might be a bit off on this chapter? I'm not sure. Be sure to let me know if there's anything I didn't do fantastically. Anyway, I hope you enjoy this chapter! (This next one'll be even better, by the way)

“What about this one?” Rocky pointed to a small diner down the road. He was driving around looking for places to get breakfast. This was maybe the third place Rocky suggested. Mordecai had turned down the other two, although Rocky had to side with him, really— they hadn’t looked particularly enticing or pristine.

“...It looks alright,” Mordecai answered.

“Does that mean you wanna eat there?” Rocky turned to look at Mordecai.

“Not necessarily.”

“Well, do you wanna eat there or not? I’m gonna pass it in a second.”

“Sure.” With that, Rocky pulled the car aside and parked the car along the road. The two got out of the car and made their way over to the diner. Rocky opened the door for Mordecai. He gave Rocky a slight nod in acknowledgment before heading inside. Rocky followed. The two found a booth in the surprisingly somewhat empty restaurant and sat down.

“You’re apparently really good at finding a place to eat, huh?” Rocky noted, observing the inside of the diner.

“Hm?” Mordecai looked up from the table; he was sweeping a few crumbs off of it.

“Well, you found someplace that’s not busy at all and actually looks pretty good. With luck, the food’ll be good, too.”

“I mean, if I did have some sort of ability as you’re proposing, I might have found a restaurant that’s a bit tidier.” Mordecai swept crumbs from the booth’s seat.

“You seem to be doing an okay job cleaning it up.”

“I’d prefer to not have to.”

A waiter came to the table and gave the two men menus. They ordered drinks— a coffee for Rocky and black tea for Mordecai, and the waiter left them to decide on food.

“So… what do you think’s going on over at the Little Daisy right now?” Rocky asked before setting down his menu, apparently having already decoded on his breakfast.

“I don’t imagine much.” Mordecai still was still looking around the menu for something.

“Well, the whole investigation’s happening right now. What do you think they’re doing? Do you think we did enough last night to keep them off of us?”

“I wouldn’t know.”

“What do you think about it though? I mean, do you think they’re gonna figure anything out?”

“They’re not going to get through that shelf in the café nor the hatch in the garage unless they brute force their way in; neither of them seemed especially obvious or accessible. As for someone accidentally telling one of them what they want to hear, I don’t exactly have any convictions. I suppose your acquaintances should just do what they can and hope for the best, and I don’t know if that will work or not.” Mordecai set down the menu.

“Yeah, I guess. But, what do you think would happen if they don’t find anything, though? Would they just keep looking? Would they drop it?”

“They probably wouldn’t stop looking for something damning, but beyond that, I don’t know. I don’t have extreme amounts of knowledge pertaining to the inner workings and policies of the Treasury.”

“I know, but you know a lot, so maybe you—”

“Here’s your coffee, sir,” the waiter said, setting down a cup of coffee in front of Rocky.

“Oh, thank you,” Rocky smiled.

“And your tea, sir,” the waiter added, setting down tea.

“Thank you,” Mordecai replied.

“Have you decided on what to eat?” the waiter asked.

“Yeah, we’re ready, right, Mordecai?” Rocky responded.

“Yes,” Mordecai stated.

“Alright then, what’ll it be?” the waiter began.

“I’ll have the pancakes. Oh, and with extra syrup, please,” Rocky requested.

“Alright… and you?” the waiter turned towards Mordecai.

“Do you have rye bread?” Mordecai asked.

“Uh… yes.” the waiter racked his brain, “We have rye bread.”

“Splendid. Two slices of rye toast and three eggs, over easy.” Mordecai grabbed Rocky’s menu, paired it with his, and handed the both back to the waiter once they had Mordecai’s order.

“Great! We’ll have that out soon.” And after a moment, the waiter left.

“What is your thing with pancakes?” Mordecai wondered.

“I don’t know. They’re good! Pancakes, syrup, sugar— you know?” Rocky answered.

“Those broadly overlap.” Mordecai took a sip of his tea, having blown on the clearly boiling hot liquid for a moment.

“Yeah, I guess they do.” Rocky took a small sip of his coffee. He winced. “Too dark. Needs cream.”

“Tea is what you need.”

“Hmm, I’d have to disagree with you there, Mordecai. Is your tea putting caffeine directly into your bloodstream?” Rocky held up his cup a bit for a moment, presenting it to Mordecai

“Yes, it’s black tea. Plenty of caffeine here, as well.” Mordecai did the same as Rocky with his cup.

“Oh, well, to each his own.”

“Indeed.” Both took sips of their respective beverages, and the air was silent for a short time.

“Well, are you glad to finally be out of the café for a bit?” 

“I suppose. I’m certainly glad to be out of that  _ closet  _ you’ve been keeping me in,” Mordecai grumbled.

“That wasn’t my decision, you know. If Mitzi wasn’t so paranoid about you, I wouldn’t have you in there. Hell, maybe you could stop being a hostage, even.”

“Well, I suppose I ought to be thankful there’s at least one person not simply wanting to lock me up and throw away the key.” 

“Yeah, I guess I… what about those Marigolds? I mean, they keep breaking in trying to get you back. Surely you must have some sort of friendship or pact of mutual assistance or something over there.”

“Ugh, no. I can hardly stand some of them. Two in particular are simply unbearable. Not to mention, Asa’s not easy nor enjoyable to work with. They’re most likely not trying to get me back due to some sort of amicable bond between us, but rather just out of necessity.”

“What do you mean?”

“The Savoys and I have been doing a majority of the work over there, so Asa just wants me back so I can get back to work. Not that I mind working, but the people I work  _ with  _ are less than ideal.”

“Savoys? Who’s that?”

“Ah. Yes. The Savoys. Surely it was one of them that broke in the other night. One’s a pugilist who thinks he’s humorous, the other’s a strange individual believing in witchcraft and swamp gods. Both have an unintelligible slur of sounds they call speech. Did you see either of those intruding?”

“Um, well, the one that came in sounded more like the first one. Looked sort of like he could’ve killed me with one good swing? Sounded… Cajun?”

“Yes, that’s probably him. Don’t worry about him too much. Or the other, for that matter. I wish I had the pleasure of being able to.”

“Well, what’s so wrong over there with the Marigolds? Is Asa really so terrible? Didn’t you choose to go work there?”

“I didn’t ‘choose’ so much as found it necessary. And, yes, Asa is simply unpleasant— overbearing. The workspace is rather… virulent, and the work itself still plenty dangerous in its own right. As it stands now, I’m enjoying the time away from it.”

“I mean, that doesn’t sound great; I feel bad for you having to deal with that. I hope something gets better over there. Also, you really enjoy it here more? Even being locked up in the storeroom?”

“I’m enjoying it more now  _ away  _ from the storeroom, but yes, I suppose so.” Mordecai took a rather large sip of tea.

“Well, have you thought about coming back to work here?”

Mordecai struggled with his tea, clearly having swallowed his tea wrong, or perhaps burning the inside of his mouth. “No, I haven’t thought about that.”

“Maybe you should. I mean, we’re doing much better now. We’ve got patrons again, and it’s a lot more stable. Money’s coming in more than it has in a while, from what I’ve heard. Not to mention, it’s not as bad as the Marigolds, at least according to what you have to say.”

“Perhaps things are going better over there than they have been recently, and I wish you the best of luck regarding that, but I don’t think that means I’m going to switch employers. Even if I did, Mitzi would most certainly not trust me enough to take me back in. So, no, I don’t think I’ll start thinking about that. Only if and when something truly substantial changes will that have potential.”

“Well, if that happens, I could maybe vouch for you. I mean, we’ve spent, well, hours talking to each other over this past week or so, when you think about it.”

“Yes, I suppose we have. I should count myself lucky it was you and not Viktor or Mitzi doing the hostage management. Or that screaming girl.”

“...Ivy?”

“Was that her name? Well, yes, I wouldn’t prefer her yelling at me for a week.”

“So you prefer me instead?”

“Over Ivy? Yes. In fact, you aren’t as terrible as I initially expected you to be. You’re certainly a very interesting character, and I should be lucky you’re not as annoying as it seemed you might be when we first met.”

Rocky quietly, light-heartedly laughed. “I appreciate the compliment. Not being annoying to you seems like a challenge.”

“Not  _ as  _ annoying, not sans annoyance.”

“Regardless, thanks,” Rocky smiled.

“Yes.” Mordecai took a sip of tea,” And I should thank you for attending to me.”

“What do you mean?”

“Well, you made sure I was able to shower and change clothes, not to mention actually eat and use proper facilities. Certainly, there are few at the café that has a high enough opinion of me that they would do such things. And with that, this hasn’t been completely terrible.”

“Oh, well, of course. I wasn’t gonna let you starve in a closet.”

“I can think of a couple who might have. Regardless, I appreciate that you’ve done that, truly.”

“Yeah, yeah, of course. I’m glad you enjoyed the… eating and, uh, showers.” Rocky took a big sip of coffee.

“Well, I didn’t—”

“Here we go, now.” the waiter was there at the table with two plates, “The pancakes were yours, right?” He set the stack of pancakes in front of Rocky.

“Oh, yes, thank you,” Rocky replied.

“And the rye toast and eggs is yours,” the waiter said, setting down his breakfast.

“Are. And thank you,” Mordecai corrected.

The waiter seemed confused for a moment but digressed. “Well, I hope you two enjoy your meals!” He then walked off after Rocky had given a subtle nod.

At that point, the two began to eat. Rocky drenched his pancakes in syrup, and Mordecai cut into his eggs, using the toast to soak up some of the yolk that leaked out. They still had light conversation between them, between bites. Rocky and Mordecai both happened to stare at the other for short periods of time when the other wasn’t paying attention. Their feelings towards the other had been intensified.

Once they had finished their food, Rocky paid; Mordecai still had no money on him. They stuck around for a few minutes after finishing though, figuring out what to do next.

“Well, it hasn’t been that long, so Dominic’s probably still there, harassing Ivy and Miss M. and all that. So, what do you think we should do for another hour or so?” Rocky wondered. Rocky didn’t mention that the main reason he didn’t want to go back to the café was that he wanted to spend some more time with Mordecai, away from the others.

“That’s a good question. I don’t want to stay here for another hour, and I don’t exactly want to be in your car for an hour, so I’ll rule those out,” Mordecai explained, not offering any sort of dissent towards the idea of not going back to the café.

“No, that makes sense, I agree. And we can’t go back to my aunt’s house, in case you were wondering.”

“I wasn’t.”

“Just thought I’d mention it.” Rocky thought for a couple of seconds, “What do you think about going to a park?”

“As long as it isn’t extremely hot and the park isn’t completely crowded, I don’t disagree.”

“Oh, there’s a park just a couple blocks away that’s usually nearly desolate. We should go there!”

“I don’t see why not.” And with that, they left the diner. The two got back into Rocky’s car and got back onto the road. It wouldn't be long before they were at the park, and hopefully it would be a pleasant time.


	25. Walk

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Mordecai and Rocky go for a walk through the park. The conversation drifts to Mordecai's connection to Viktor. Both parties seem to benefit.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Ugh. Ugh, so sorry for the nearly three-week-long wait between these chapters. Most of that's my fault. Also, stuff's just been starting up again around here, and I've been both pretty tired and pretty busy, so maybe you'll excuse it a tiny bit. Anyway, this is the chapter I was excited to write, cause this one really accelerates things regarding Mordecai and Rocky. It was fun to write, once I finally got around to doing so. It's a tad on the short side, but there's just a lot of dialogue, and I wasn't gonna stretch it out longer than it should be. But regardless, I hope you enjoy this chapter!

It was a nice day out in the park. It was a little too humid for Mordecai's tastes, but it was somewhat cloudy out, and as such, wasn't too warm. The two were walking along a winding path that was shaded by trees on either side of the trail. It was even a bit cool in the shadows. And as Rocky had predicted, the park wasn't busy, which was good for the two, especially whenever Rocky decided to face Mordecai as they talked, walking backward down the path in front of the other— he wouldn't be walking into anyone. At least, hopefully.

"So, what do you think?" Rocky asked.

"About what?" Mordecai replied.

"The park? Is it good? You like it?"

"Yes, I suppose. It looks nice. It's a bit too muggy, though."

"You think so? I haven't really noticed."

Mordecai sort of hummed in acknowledgment. The two walked along silently for a minute or so, both taking in the nature. They were both pretending to be more interested in their surroundings than they truly were. It was certainly nice, but the main purpose was to avoid being caught looking at the other. Yet, despite both acting the same, somewhat awkward way, neither picked up on what that might have meant— or even that the other was acting just the same as them. And so, both of them tried to think of something to say to break up the silence.

“So, um, are you seeing anyone?” Rocky asked it like he was trying to make small talk, but really it was a question he had wanted to know the answer to for a bit now. And, well, was there going to be a better time to as kit than here, far away from anyone?

“You mean, at this moment? I see you.” Oh no. Rocky was going to have to talk about this more than he initially wanted to. Surely, he wasn’t playing stupid; he was too smart to play stupid like that. At least, he thought so. Rocky supposed he just hadn’t heard that phrase before.

“No, uh, I mean are you dating anyone right now?”

“Oh. Now? No,” Mordecai dryly, almost bitterly stated.

“Really? I wouldn’t have thought that.” Indeed, Rocky was actually surprised to hear that in a sense. But on the other hand, that was good news. Well, Rocky wasn’t exactly a hundred percent sure about doing something like co—

“Why’s that?” Mordecai questioned.

“Oh, well, it’s just that, you know, you’re a nice-looking guy; I’m sure that ladies would be falling over themselves for you.” If Mordecai had any sort of realization of how Rocky felt, what he just said was a clear message. Maybe he shouldn’t have said that, even.

Mordecai was silent for a moment, and Rocky began to panic a bit. He shouldn’t have said that. That was too weird. Mordecai was probably weirded out by Rocky. Then, Mordecai said, “Well, thank you, I suppose. But, no, I’m not in any sort of relationship such as that— romantic or otherwise.”

“Are you looking for someone?” That was probably even more perturbing to ask, but Rocky was genuinely curious; both for curiosity’s sake and his own.

“Why do you ask?”

“I’m just curious, is all.” Rocky was probably starting to physically show his nervousness after all of this.

“No, I’m not looking for someone for such a relationship at the moment. I don’t plan on looking, either.”

“What, you mean, ever?”

Mordecai deliberated on that for a couple of seconds. “Perhaps. Certainly for some time, at least.”

Both were silent for a moment. Rocky was thinking over Mordecai’s answers as well as trying to keep the conversation going.

“Well, if you don’t mind me asking… what about you and Viktor? Wasn’t there… something between the two of you?” Rocky wondered.

“Perhaps I should have seen this coming. I’ve certainly been saying a lot of personal things about myself— it was really only a matter of time before this topic reared its head.”

“Hey, if you don’t want to say anything about it, I really don’t mind. I don’t—”

“No, I’ll tell you about it. Besides, I would rather have you hear about it from me than from Mitzi or from Viktor himself. I have a suspicion that neither of them could keep their biases from changing the story.” Mordecai cleared his throat. “So, yes, there was something between the two of us. It started when we were both simply business partners. We had both been hired by Atlas at about the same time, and we often worked together.”

Mordecai adjusted his glasses. Rocky decided to face Mordecai, being engrossed in the story. That meant walking backwards down the path.

Mordecai continued, “Perhaps it was only a matter of time before we grew fond of each other, then. Regardless, we ended up together. It was quite nice for quite some time. We lived in the same tenement for a time. It was about when Atlas died that things started to sour some.”

“Wait, did you live in the same place as Viktor lives in now?” Rocky asked.

“...Who’s his neighbor?”

“This old woman. She speaks in… Polish, maybe?”

“Yes, that’s the same place.” Mordecai signalled for Rocky to adjust himself lest he back up straight into a tree. “Anyway, when Atlas died, the whole organization just about dissolved within a few weeks or so. I didn’t want to stick around and see what that might mean for us, so I urged Viktor to quit with me. Of course, Viktor, the stubborn bastard he is, refused no matter what I said. So I left— both him and Lackadaisy.”

“...What about his knees?”

“His kne— oh. Well, after he refused to quit with me, I was leaving. Viktor wouldn’t let me. I warned him that I would shoot him if he didn’t stop grabbing me. Viktor, obstinance and all, didn’t. So, I shot him. I had to shoot him again so that I didn’t get mauled by him.” Mordecai stopped, and Rocky was silent. “I certainly didn't mean for it to go that poorly, Rocky. I didn’t set out with the goal of kneecapping Viktor.”

“No, no, of course not, Mordecai. I mean, from what you said, at least, it didn’t sound like you wanted to do that. I would shoot Viktor if he were trying to maul me.”

Mordecai sort of just acknowledged that with a quiet, “Yes.”

Then it was quiet for a few moments, again.

“...So I’ve got another question, then,” Rocky began.

“Yes?” Mordecai replied.

“So if you were in a relationship with Viktor, then that makes you…”

“Yes, yes. I’m gay. I thought that that story was evidence enough.”

“Huh,” Rocky mumbled.

“What? Do you care one way or another?”

“Oh, well, I… no, I. No. No, it doesn’t matter. You can do whatever you want. That’s great. And, uh, thanks for letting me know, I guess.” That was certainly a very important tidbit. Mordecai was gay. Rocky was practically out of breath, from both excitement and continued nervousness. Maybe there was something to this whole thing after all.

"That's good." Mordecai readjusted his hat with his hand. It had slipped some. "You probably knew some of the story with Viktor already."

"Well, a little bit, yeah."

"Hmph. It's good to clear the air, then. Good to talk about, even."

"Is it?"

"It wasn't an ideal way to end a relationship. And it wasn't truly that long ago, so it's somewhat of a sore spot."

"Do you wanna talk about it more?"

Mordecai turned his head to the side and pushed his glasses back up. "No, that's fine." He turned back. "Did any of that story bother you? Anything I've said so far?"

"Well, I mean,  _ shooting  _ Viktor wasn't _ great,  _ but I kinda already knew about that. But otherwise, no. You having been in a relationship isn't  _ bothersome. _ "

"Then that's enough for now. I suppose I should just be glad that you've taken all of that as well as you did. I appreciate that."

"Oh, of course. Of course. That's… that's nice of you, Mordecai. You know, you're actually nicer than you let on."

"Perhaps. At this point, I suppose I should consider you something of an amicable acquaintance."

"Do… you mean a friend? Is that the word you're looking for?"

"I suppose you could simplify it to that, yes," Mordecai nodded.

"Well, forget about 'should'—  _ do  _ you consider me as such?" Rocky wondered.

"I don't see why not."

"Alright then. Don't be too enthusiastic, Mordecai," Rocky joked.

"I won't," Mordecai simply stated.

"Well, it was… whatever; I'm glad to hear that." Rocky scratched the back of his head for a second. Mordecai was gay. Of course, so was he. Mordecai wasn't in a relationship. Of course, neither was he. Mordecai considered Rocky a sort of friend. Of course, Rocky felt the same about him. Rocky was more or less enamored with Mordecai. Maybe Mordecai felt the same about him. It was bothering Rocky enough, and he felt confident enough, and there was reason enough, for him to try it out.

"So, um, we've been talking to each other for a bit now. And, well, I think that you're a pretty ni—" Rocky stopped as he stepped backwards into a small hole, losing his balance.

As Rocky began to fall back, Mordecai reached forward and grabbed one of Rocky's arms, which had been thrust forward as a way to try to regain his balance. Mordecai pulled Rocky back onto his feet. As he did, he inadvertently pulled Rocky quite close to himself. Indeed, he was practically embracing Rocky, holding his arm with one hand, with his other holding onto Rocky's side. The two stood there for a few moments, staring at each other before their brains sort of kicked in again. They both retracted at about the same time, awkwardly trying to forget it.

Rocky cleared his throat. "Sorry. I should have been looking where I was going."

Mordecai adjusted his hat, then his glasses. "It's fine. Don't worry about that."

"I won't." Mordecai had some really beautiful eyes, Rocky had noticed.

"Alright then." Rocky's eyes were piercingly blue, Mordecai had noticed. Had his eyes always been so blue? "They're done investigating the café at this point, surely."

"Yeah, yeah, almost certainly. We should, uh, probably head back now. I'm sure Miss M. would appreciate it."

"Of course. Can't have you disappoint her."

"Yeah. Let's, um, let's leave, then."

With that, the two quickly made their way back to their parking spot and back to Rocky's car. It would only be a few minutes before they were back at the Little Daisy. It would be a walk back, as well as a silent car trip. Both were obsessing over the other— their embrace, their eyes, everything they experienced about the other. All of this was starting to get really hard for either of them to ignore.


	26. Return

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Rocky and Mordecai return from the park. The boys and Mitzi have a talk about their plans. Dominic is upset about the investigation's outcome.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hello. So, so sorry about the hiatus. It was a long, unexpected break, but I think that I won't have another one in this story. Taking a break, getting excited about something else, feeling like I really ought to finish this story— all of that kind of helped rejuvenate me regarding writing this fanfic. I'm actually on vacation at the moment, but I promised myself I'd finish a chapter of something before I returned. And would you look at that? I did! Anyway, the only real note is that at one point I call a guy 'Roland'. Just wanna say now that I'm NOT trying to introduce some sort of OC or whatever; it just felt right to have him be named in the dialogue. Otherwise, hope you enjoy the chapter!

Rocky parked his car outside of the Little Daisy, both of the car's passengers still awkwardly quiet about what had happened at the park. Rocky started walking towards the front door, and Mordecai followed behind him. It was a few moments before he realized that he hadn't really been making sure that Mordecai was even following him before he turned around and saw him. That was… nice to see. Mordecai was, maybe, trustworthy. At least, that's what Rocky took away from it.

Rocky entered the building to few customers, with it being too early for lunch and rather late for any sort of breakfast. Mitzi and Ivy were quietly talking, with Mitzi sitting on a stool by the counter and Ivy standing behind it, cleaning some plates. Mitzi looked up upon hearing the sound of the door opening.

"Morning, Rocky," Mitzi smiled as the two got near.

"Good morning, Miss M.,” Rocky replied.

“What were you two doing while you were out?” She seemed just to be curious, although she wanted to know if either of them had done anything stupid or if Rocky had done something to play into Mordecai’s hands.

“Oh, we just got some breakfast at some diner. Uh, walked around some,” Rocky answered, sitting on a nearby stool; he rubbed the back of his neck with his hand as he replied. Mordecai simply stood next to him, with Rocky mostly having his back to him.

“That’s good.”

Ivy set aside a now clean plate, “Lemme guess, Rocky— pancakes.”

“Yeah! How’d you guess?” Rocky smiled.

“Lucky guess, probably.” Ivy half-heartedly rolled her eyes and reached for a glass sitting upside down beside her.

“What is it with pancakes?” Mordecai asked, confused.

“I don’t really know,” Ivy shrugged.

“It’s pancakes! That’s the reason.” Rocky tried to convince the two heathens.

"That's not a good enough reason," Ivy argued.

Rocky sighed. "Clearly, you don't understand.

"Whatever you say."

Silence for an awkward few seconds. Then Rocky asked, "So, Miss M., how did the whole, uh... visitor business go?" 

"Seems like it went fine. No problems as of yet,” Mitzi responded.

"Nobody figured anything out?”

“Didn’t seem like it, Rocky. Nothing especially damnin'."

"Well then there you go, problem solved."

“Well, speaking of the investigation, would you two would come with me?" Mitzi gestured to Mordecai and Rocky, "We should talk with Viktor and think about what we’re gonna next, alright? Ivy, would you please stay here and keep everything under control?"

“Yeah. Got it,” Ivy nodded. The three then began to leave through the front door and round the corner towards the garage.

The garage door was open, and inside was Viktor, who was exhausted and sitting against the wall on a wooden box, drinking some water from a slightly dirty glass. He noticed the three coming in as he was taking a drink. Viktor finished his sip and set the glass down, and then he stood up.

"You two," Viktor grunted, staring at Rocky and Mordecai.

"Us two," Rocky repeated.

There was some tension in the air. "Well, boys, I think we should discuss what to do next," Mitzi said.

"Next about what?" Rocky questioned.

"The investigation. They might not have found anything today, but they'll probably come back."

"Vhy is he here?" Viktor gruffly asked, gesturing to Mordecai.

"Rocky’s job is to make sure Mordecai doesn’t run off. And he isn’t hurting anything just being here. Yet,” Mitzi explained, trying to ease the tension between Viktor and Mordecai. Viktor breathily exhaled, seemingly annoyed, but didn’t say anything more.

"Vhat is there to discuss about investigation?"

"We're gonna have to keep up the hiding for at least a couple more days. They're probably expecting us to open shop again as soon as possible, get back to selling and bringing in customers to the speakeasy. And they'll probably try to catch us tonight, and tomorrow night, at least for the next few days. So, we can't reopen the bar yet."

"When are you gonna reopen everything?" Rocky wondered.

"Maybe at the end of the week, honey. But until then we'll have to just manage the café and lay low," Mitzi illustrated.

"Is there enough money to make until then?"

"Until the end of the week? Of course. But hopefully they'll have given up by then; I don't know how much longer we could keep it up."

"What about Freckle? Or the both of us?" Rocky gestured rapidly between Mordecai and himself, "What are we gonna do?"

"Well, you can tell your cousin that he can stay home until we reopen. As for the two of you, well— Mordecai's gotta go somewhere."

Rocky looked over to Mordecai, who was looking into the middle distance, not really acknowledging Rocky's glance. "What do you mean?"

"Can't exactly lock Mordecai in the storage room when we can't down there, honey. He's gonna have to stay somewhere else."

"With who?"

"I don't what to have to deal with Mordecai, and—"

"I don't want to have to deal with you, either," Mordecai added.

"Yes, I'm aware. And I don't think Viktor's a great choice either. Especially not for several days. Besides, you've been watching him since last night, and everything's been alright. Right?" Mitzi continued.

Rocky cleared his throat. "Well, yeah, it was fine, but I don't—"

"The alternative is that me or Viktor look over him for the time being." Rocky looked over to Viktor, who menacingly cracked his knuckles. Ha, always great comedic timing, that Viktor.

"Are you sure that there isn't another option?" Mordecai asked.

“Not letting you go, Mordecai, if that’s what you’re trying to get at.” Mitzi looked from Mordecai to face Rocky, “Other option is we find some other closet to lock him in, if we can find one.”

Rocky sighed. “Yeah, I see. Well, uh, what do you think, Mordecai?”

“Mordecai’s under our custody. It doesn’t matter what he thinks about it, Rocky.”

“I suppose, given the alternatives, I can countenance a few more days with you, Rocky,” Mordecai answered, nearly staring into Mitzi’s eyes as he did. It was silent for a moment as the two stared directly into each other’s eyes with brutal glances.

It was Mitzi who withdrew her eyes first. She cleared her throat and readjusted her posture. “That’s settled, then. Good. As for work, I still want you two to come in over the next few days, but expect to be doing work here in the garage until we reopen.” She pointed to Viktor and to Rocky.

“Doing vhat?” Viktor questioned.

“Manual labor. I’m expecting a small shipment of supplies for the café, so I’ll need you two to unload some that. And get Mordecai involved. He hates manual labor.” Mordecai glared at Mitzi. She smirked. “Right now, though, unless either of you two have anything else to say, I need to go back and help Ivy out with the café.” Rocky shook his head, and neither Viktor nor Mordecai really even acknowledged that Mitzi had even spoken. “Alright. Be sure to help Viktor out with whatever he’s doing, Rocky!” Mitzi called out as she left the garage.

Dominic paced around his office. At least, what room there was to be paced in. One of the officers that had accompanied Dom in his visit to the Little Daisy sat in a chair on the other side of Dom’s desk. “How could we not find a single thing? We should have been able to find enough to practically send ‘em to the electric chair.”

“Well, maybe they’re clean?” the officer mumbled in his seat.

“No, they’re guilty. Why else would that woman tell all about it? Why else would that little pipsqueak confess to everything that he did?”

“If you got a confession, isn’t that enough to get a warrant?”

“No. No. I didn’t go through the proper channels, and I broke protocol. I wasn’t supposed to let the kid go, I was supposed to record it differently— whatever, whatever. It won’t get me far enough. They managed to hide themselves so perfectly that there’s nearly no way I can legally get to them. It’s infuriating.”

“What if you just say you did everything right?”

“I could. But if any of them caught on to the fact that I was lying, and surely they would— they’re clever, then they’d get me fired. I think that they know more about what’s going on than they let on. I can just tell. And they would certainly be able to catch me wherever I cut corners. They would. I mean, you heard that woman that I had talk with us, right, Roland?”

“Yeah? What about her?”

“She seemed clever. She seemed like the kind of person who would notice if I made a mistake.”

“You sure? I don’t think she did.”

Dom pinched the bridge of his nose and leaned his head back. He let go with a prolonged exhale. “I should have gone and checked out the garage. Not you idiots.”

“Hey.”

“I actually saw that damn hatch; I knew where it was. None of you did. I don’t know _why_ I thought it was a good idea to send some of you down there to check it out. And what did they say was the reason they left so quickly?”

“Big guy scared ‘em. Apparently he was more like a bear than anything else.”

“Guh. Idiots. Was probably just this guy.” Dom held up the picture of Viktor he had shown Freckle. “Surprised that such cowards can make it as police officers.”

“Eh, I don’t know. He seems pretty scary.”

“That’s just the picture makes him seem a bit menacing. I can’t believe that they couldn’t even find a hatch. How are these guys supposed to solve murders or deal with robberies? Can’t even find a hatch.” Roland was quiet, even as Dom looked to him for a response. “Whatever. If I’m to actually catch these people, I need to catch them red-handed when they think that I’ve given up.”

“How are you gonna do that?”

“I don’t know yet. I’m gonna have to sit down and come up with some sort of a plan.” Drago pulled his chair out and sat down heavily; he’d been walking around in his office for a while now, and his legs were tired. His legs practically just gave out under him when he sat down.

“Oh. Okay. Do you, uh, still ne—”

“No, you can go. But bring me a coffee before you go back to what you were doing before,” Dom urged, pulling out some blank paper from a large stack of various papers beside him. He reached out for a pen and began to write as Roland stood up.

“Oh, sure. Alright. I’ll be right back with that, Mr. Drago.” Roland took his leave.

Now it was just Dom, alone in his office. The windows were open and a light breeze rustled his papers every now and then. But other than when Roland came back with his coffee, he stayed focused on his papers and his thoughts. He was going to find some way to get the evidence he needed, and the Lackadaisy was going to be arrested and disbanded. Dominic would make sure of it, personally.


End file.
